


Love's Heavy Burden

by sneetchstar



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-03-12 04:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13539717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneetchstar/pseuds/sneetchstar
Summary: After a bad breakup, Rosaline is asked to be maid of honor at Juliet's wedding to Romeo.  A wedding where Benvolio Montague is the best man.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Under love’s heavy burden do I sink.” -Romeo  
> ― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet 
> 
> “Don’t waste your love on somebody, who doesn’t value it.”   
> ― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

“Will you be my maid of honor? Please?” Juliet’s plea is too much for Rosaline. She really doesn’t want the responsibility of being maid of honor; doesn’t really even want to be involved in the wedding. Or any wedding, for that matter.

But Juliet is her only cousin and one of her closest friends, and she cannot find any non-selfish reasons to refuse. She briefly considers suggesting Juliet ask Livia instead, but deep down she knows she has always been closer to her cousin than her sister has.

She also expected to be asked.

“Of course I will,” Rosaline answers, wincing at the forced brightness of her tone.

Thankfully, Juliet doesn’t notice, and squeals with joy. “Oh, thank you, Ros! I know that you probably aren’t thrilled with… I mean… after what… oh dear…”

“It’s okay, Juliet. I’m fine. Really,” Rosaline interjects, coming to the rescue. “It’s been more than six months.” It helps that he’s moved to New York, far enough away to make it easier to keep him out of her mind.

“It has, hasn’t it?” Juliet replies, then immediately continues, “Engagement party is next weekend. Well, it’s not really an _engagement_ party, since the wedding is in two months. It’s more a get-together so everyone can meet one another. It’s… um… at Mom and Dad’s house.”

“Great.”

“I’m sorry. But take heart! They’ll be too busy trying to impress Romeo’s dad to worry about you,” she points out. “Mom has already fired two caterers.”

Rosaline closes her eyes. _Give me strength._ Giuliana Capulet is the bane of her existence, and despite Juliet’s assurance that Rosaline will be able to fly under the radar, she knows better. “I don’t even want to know. Look, Jules, I gotta go. I need to have this chapter done by the end of the day.”

“Oh! Right, I’m sorry, I forgot you were at work,” Juliet replies. “I have to call Liv anyway to ask her to be a bridesmaid. And we need to go shopping this weekend for dresses for the party.”

“Um, okay,” Rosaline answers. She is determined not to buy a new dress, but she can certainly help her cousin spend her parents’ money. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye!” Juliet cheerfully responds, then Rosaline disconnects the call.

“Ugh,” she groans, leaning her face in her hands for a few seconds. Then she takes a long drink of water, picks up her pen, and gives her full attention to the manuscript in front of her.

xXx

Six Months Earlier

“ _I’m sorry, Rosaline,” Escalus said, his voice quiet. “I know… I know the timing isn’t the best, and I should have said something earli—”_

“‘ _Isn’t the best’?_ _The wedding is next week!” Rosaline yelled, finally snapping out of her shock enough to speak. “Next. Week.”_

“ _I’m sorry.”_

“ _Really.”_

“ _Ros…”_

“ _No. No. You are not doing this to me,” she replied, shaking her head, angrily swiping the tears off of her face. “You are_ not _doing this to me_ over the phone _, for fuck’s sake.”_

“ _I can’t—”_

“ _Oh, you_ can’t _? You can’t what? Be bothered to face me? Find your balls?”_

“ _I can’t talk to you in person because I’m not in Verona,” he answered._

_Rosaline’s stomach dropped. “Where are you?”_

“ _New York. I… I’m staying here. Permanently.”_

“ _What’s her name?” she asked after a moment of silence, figuring that_ had _to be the reason._

“ _What? Who’s name?” he returned, not following._

“ _The whore you decided you needed to be with in New York instead of in Wisconsin with me. Your fiancée. The woman you promised to marry,” Rosaline answered, her voice deadly calm._

“ _There’s no one. Honest,” he answered. “Ask Matteo. Ask Isabella.”_

“ _Wait, Isabella knows?” she asked, her voice rising again._

_He sighed. “She probably knows by now. Dad was going to tell her.”_

_Rosaline said nothing, falling silent long enough for Escalus to ask if she was still there._

“ _This isn’t happening,” she replied._

“ _The only thing that isn’t happening is our wedding, Ros,” Escalus answered. Then, realizing the harshness of his words, he hastily tried to add, “I’m so—”_

“ _Fuck you, Escalus Prince,” Rosaline interrupted, her temper flaring anew. “You don’t deserve me anyway.”_

_Then she stabbed the End icon on her screen and threw her phone on the bed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verona, Wisconsin is a real city. It's near Madison.


	2. Chapter 2

“So who is this Benvolio guy? How have we not met him?” Rosaline asks Livia on their way to the party the following weekend.

“He’s Romeo’s cousin. I guess he’s been _studying abroad_ or some shit,” Livia answers, temporarily affecting a snooty accent.

“Oh, so he’s still in college?”

“Graduate studies, Mercutio said, but he did his undergrad over there, too. Something to do with Art, I guess.”

“Mmm,” Rosaline noncommittally replies with a nod. “Must be nice to have money.” She pulls her car in front of her aunt and uncle’s giant house and heaves a sigh. “You ready?”

“No, but we gotta,” Livia answers. “Come on.”

They walk around the side to the back of the house, where a few people are milling around the meticulously manicured lawn.

“Uncle’s lawn game is seriously on point today,” Livia says with a chuckle. Sylvestro Capulet has few hobbies outside of caring for his lawn.

“I bet he’s drawn little hearts in the margins of his log book,” Rosaline replies, laughing with her sister. They discovered their uncles lawn care log several years ago, when they were still living with them, and it has been a source of amusement ever since.

“He’s such a nerd,” Livia agrees.

“Who’s a nerd?” a cheerful voice asks behind them.

They spin around and see Mercutio standing there, dressed in cargo shorts and a tropical shirt.

“You are,” Rosaline answers. “Nice to see you dressed for the occasion.” She had kept her resolve and not purchased a new dress, but is wearing one of her favorite maxi dresses, and Livia is in a cute floral knee-length sundress.

“Hey, these are my best shorts,” Mercutio protests.

“Honestly, you are the worst at being gay,” Tybalt Capulet, another cousin and Mercutio’s current boyfriend, chimes in, walking up immaculately dressed and carrying a small wrapped package.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Mercutio reminds him with a wink. “Ladies, shall we?”

“If we must,” Rosaline answers, walking through the gate and into the back yard.

xXx

“Who is that?” Benvolio quietly asks Romeo, his eyes glued to a vision in light blue across the lawn. Everyone is finally there and people are just starting to mingle.

“Who is who?” Romeo replies. “There’s like 100 people here.”

“ _Her_ ,” Benvolio unhelpfully clarifies, attempting to point with his eyeballs. He blows an exasperated breath at his cousin’s clueless look. “Next to the punch bowl. Cerulean dress, sunglasses, dark skin that appears to be glowing in the sunlight.”

“Cerulean?”

“Sky blue and _who is she?_ ”

Romeo looks over. “Oh, that’s just Rosaline. She’s Juliet’s cousin. She’s cool,” he answers.

“Is she in the wedding?” Benvolio asks, trying very hard to look like he’s not staring.

“Oh yeah, she’s the maid of honor,” Romeo replies, like he isn’t delivering the best news Benvolio has heard all day.

He blinks. “I’m the best man.”

“Glad you remember,” Romeo jokes. “Do you want to meet her? I mean, you’re going to have to at some point, or the wedding party dance could be kind of awkward.”

“What, now?” Benvolio asks, his voice shooting much higher than he would like. He clears his throat and tries again. “Um, sure.”

Romeo laughs. “Come on, loser,” he says. Then he takes two steps and stops. “Wait.”

“What?”

“You might want to… dial it back a little.”

“Dial what back?” Benvolio asks, trying to act innocent.

“She might not take to you declaring your undying love for her on your first meeting,” Romeo suggests, remembering that his cousin has been out of the country for several years and very likely doesn’t know what is generally considered common knowledge about Rosaline, given that Escalus is the mayor’s son. And while he doesn’t really want to spill all of her business, he doesn’t want Benvolio to be completely blindsided either.

“I wasn’t—”

“Dude, I can see hearts floating in front of your eyes. Yeah, she’s cute, but—”

“Cute? She’s gorgeous. She looks like… a statue of a Greek goddess that has come to life and chosen to grace us mere mortals with her presence.”

Romeo groans and rolls his eyes. “Just… be nice, but try not to flirt. Definitely keep that Greek goddess shit to yourself.”

Benvolio looks a bit crestfallen, apparently very proud of his comparison. “Oh,” he replies with a frown.

“Just trust me, okay?” Romeo says, placing his hand on his cousin’s shoulder.

Benvolio shrugs. “Okay.” They start to head over again, but she’s not there anymore. “Where’d she go?” he asks, looking around.

“I don’t see Juliet or Livia – that’s Ros’ sister – either. Bet they’re off somewhere together,” Romeo answers. “Maybe later.”

xXx

The doorknob jiggles on the bathroom door, and Rosaline’s eyes immediately dart there, suddenly wondering _Did I lock the door?_ She quickly calls, “Just a minute.”

“No problem,” a male voice answers.

She mainly went to the bathroom as an excuse to get away when her aunt descended on Juliet, Livia, and her, but stayed there a few minutes longer just to catch a little solitude. _I should have followed my initial instincts and used the upstairs bathroom._ She flushes the toilet and washes her hands. When she opens the door she finds herself face to face with a young man she has seen around the party but has not yet met. Juliet told her he was Benvolio, Romeo’s cousin and best man. He’s reasonably handsome, but right now he looks like a surprised owl.

She gives him a smile and nod, but before she can pass him, he speaks.

“You’re Rosaline,” he says.

She stops. “Yes. And Juliet tells me you’re Benvolio,” she replies.

“Yes.” He offers his hand, and she briefly grasps it. “I’m quite pleased to meet you,” he adds. Her hand is cool and a little clammy, probably because she just washed them.

“Um, yes,” she agrees. He doesn’t move. “You… you’ve been studying in Europe?” she asks, feeling a bit awkward standing in her aunt and uncle’s hallway talking to a stranger who she _thought_ had to use the bathroom.

“Paris. I’ve just graduated,” he answers with a nod.

“Art?”

“Benvolio,” he quips, but she doesn’t laugh. “That was a joke.”

“Mmm,” she replies with a nod. “I meant were you—”

“I know what you meant,” he interjects, disappointed she didn’t even crack a smile. “And yes, I’ve been studying art. Six years in France is a long time, but I’m ready to be back here now.”

“Is there much of an art scene in Wisconsin?” she asks.

He angles his head. “More than most people probably realize. Maybe not in Verona, but definitely Madison and Milwaukee. Chicago isn’t out of the realm of possibility either.”

“I would think you would want to settle in like L.A. or New York. Or stay in Paris,” she says. “Not that it’s my business or anything,” she quickly adds.

“I like this area,” he simply replies. “And since I’ve only just graduated, right now my time is devoted to enjoying this summer and being available to Romeo for whatever he needs.”

“You’re taking your best man duties very seriously,” she says, trying to ignore the fact that he basically admitted to being willfully unemployed.

“Well, Romeo’s more like a brother to me than a cousin. We were raised together, you see, and sometimes he was the only friend I had,” he says.

Rosaline doesn’t miss the slight shadow that crosses his features, but decides that it’s not her business. “I understand,” she replies. “My sister and I were raised with Juliet.”

“Oh, right, right, yes, Romeo did mention that,” he comments with a nod. “So… Rosaline…”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she exclaims, misinterpreting his suddenly stilted demeanor. “You needed to use the bathroom, and you’re being polite by talking to me. I’ll just…”

“No, it’s really—”

“See you around,” she interrupts, already moving. “Um, it was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” he dumbly agrees, watching her walk away, noting the gentle sway of her hips beneath the fabric of her dress and how the material clings and flows around her firm but nicely-rounded backside.

He ducks into the bathroom just before she looks back.

 _What a strange guy,_ she thinks.

“Real smooth, Ben,” he chides himself behind the closed bathroom door.

xXx

Benvolio finds a few more opportunities to talk to Rosaline as the party wears on. He decides he definitely likes her, but notices she seems to be very careful when talking to him. Like she’s intentionally trying to keep him at arms’ length. She’s very nice, polite, and charming, but she somehow manages to still be a bit distant.

“I see you finally met Rosaline,” Juliet says, sidling up to him a minute after Rosaline wandered away, this time saying she needed to speak to her sister.

“Yes,” Benvolio replies. “She seems very nice.”

“Oh, ‘nice’? That’s not what you said to Romeo,” she teases. At Benvolio’s shocked expression, she adds, “Of course he told me. Greek goddess, really?”

“Please don’t—”

Juliet holds up her hand. “I won’t tell her. I promise,” she swears. “But I need you to promise me that you won’t… push anything with her.”

Benvolio takes her arm and gently pulls her to a more private spot. “Okay, what is the deal? Romeo told me to be nice but not flirt. And now you’re telling me basically the same thing? What is going on?”

She purses her lips and sighs. “I shouldn’t, but… since everyone in Verona already knows…”

“Knows _what_ , Juliet? What is wrong with Rosaline?” he urgently asks, careful to keep his voice low.

“She was engaged once,” she answers. “To Escalus Prince.”

“Who is Escalus Prince?”

“Wow, you _were_ gone a long time,” Juliet says.

“We also live in Madison, not Verona,” Benvolio reminds her. Madison is only a 20 minute drive from Verona, but the gossip of a relatively small city isn’t something that is going to matter to the citizens of the state capital.

“Escalus Prince is the mayor’s son. They were engaged, but then he broke up with her,” she explains.

“Wow.”

“A week before the wedding. Over the phone.”

“ _Merde_ ,” he unthinkingly curses in French.

“ _Oui_ ,” she agrees. “It’s been six months. She says she’s fine, but we’re not completely sure. I mean… on one hand, someone showing interest in her might be just the thing she needs, but on the other hand, she might pull your heart right out of your chest like that scene from _Temple of Doom._ ” She shrugs. “No one is closer to her than Livia and me, and even we’re not sure if she’s really fine.”

“Good actress,” he guesses.

“She’s had practice. She and my mom… let’s just say they don’t get along. Ros has had a lot of experience hiding her true feelings,” Juliet explains. She puts her hand on his shoulder. “Look. If you like her, that’s great. I think you two could be really… interesting together.”

“Interesting?” he asks.

“Good interesting,” she clarifies. “But I don’t want to see either of you get hurt.”

“Especially not her,” he says, slowly nodding. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Okay, I get it. I’ll tread carefully.” He catches sight of her over Juliet’s shoulder. “She just intrigues me,” he half-lies, not convincing either of them. “She moves with such grace and confidence… all long, smooth lines and gentle curves…” he trails off, noticing now how a few curled locks of hair have escaped from her up-do and are now skimming the curve of her neck. “I would happily spend a day living as one of those ringlets, brushing against her skin…”

“Ben,” Juliet says, snapping in front of his face. “Dude.”

“Did I say that out last part loud?” he asks, his eyes focusing back on her.

“Yes. You need to find some chill,” she says. “And come on. It’s time for cake.”

“Do you think she’d let me paint her?” he asks as they walk. “I’d love to paint her.”

“I doubt it, but you can ask,” she answers. “Eventually.” Then she bounds away, joining Romeo near the cake.

Once the pieces are out on plates, Benvolio grabs two and sets out in search of Rosaline. He finds her, thankfully, alone.

“Cake?” he asks, offering one of the plates to her.

“Um, thanks,” she answers, taking it. She wasn’t going to have any, but he went to the trouble to bring her a piece and she doesn’t want to be rude. Plus, it’s chocolate.

“Did you find your sister?” he asks.

“Hmm? Oh. Yes. I wanted to find out how long we were staying. I’m about ready to go, but I probably need to hang around a while longer, since I’m the maid of honor and all that,” she says.

“Not much for parties?” he carefully asks.

“Not really,” she carefully answers, stopping herself from adding “or weddings.” She takes a bite of her cake. “This is good.”

“Yes,” he agrees.

“So what kind of art do you do? Painting? Sculpting? Something more avant garde, like that guy who puts skirts on islands?” she asks.

“Christo?” he laughs. “No, that’s some high-end esoteric shit that doesn’t interest me at all. I mainly paint, but I do some charcoal work as well.”

“Are you any good?”

“I hope so,” he answers. “If not, I’ve wasted the money my parents left for my education.”

Then Rosaline remembers him telling her that he grew up in Romeo’s house, much like she and her sister did with Juliet, and wonders if he had a nicer time than they did. “That would be a shame,” she agrees.

“I know how hard it is to make a living painting pictures, which is why I mainly concentrated on Arts Management. My plan is to work at either a museum or art gallery,” he explains. “And paint on the side, for my own enjoyment.”

Rosaline nods. “I guess if you try to make a living of it then it could become like your _job_ and it may wind up feeling like a chore rather than a joy,” she says. “That’s why I work as an editor and not a writer.”

“Really?” Benvolio brightens considerably, happy to have found something in common with her apart from having dead parents. “What do you write?”

“Nothing lately,” she says. “Been in a bit of a dry spell, idea-wise, for a while.”

 _Probably about six months_ , he thinks, but does not say it. “Yeah, you can’t force creativity,” he agrees instead. “Speaking of artistic inspiration, and I hope you don’t think I’m being weird or anything, but… I think you would make an excellent model. That is… I would like to paint you. Um, clothed, not nude. Sometime. Maybe. If you want.” His confidence quickly fades when presented with the incredulous expression on her face. “Forget it. It’s not important.”

“I don’t know,” she answers, and he breathes again. “Maybe? I’ve never done that before, and I barely know you.”

“I wouldn’t do it until you were comfortable with the idea,” he assures her. “And if you never are, I guess I won’t do it at all. Just think about it.”

“Why?”

His brow furrows, confused. “Why should you think about it?”

“Why do you want to paint me?”

“Because you are incredibly beautiful and I want to attempt to capture that beauty on canvas,” he truthfully answers, knowing full well Romeo is going to have his head when he hears about this. And he knows full well his cousin _will_ hear about this.

Rosaline blinks a couple times, her expressive brown eyes wide. “Thank you. I need to go,” she says, then hurries away, obviously flustered.

_Shit, Juliet said “eventually.”_

His face falls when he sees her talking to her sister, then the two of them head towards where Romeo and Juliet are standing. They talk for a few minutes, then hugs are exchanged, and he watches, helpless, as Rosaline and Livia leave the party.

The knowledge that he’s guaranteed to see her again is the only thing that helps him survive the accusatory looks Romeo and Juliet are shooting him across the lawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lawn care log book is a real thing too. My brother-in-law has one. My sister and I think it's hilarious (though she secretly thinks it's cute, too).


	3. Chapter 3

“No, really, I’m fine. You can stop asking me,” Rosaline insists, rolling her eyes and trying not to sigh loud enough for her to hear over the phone. “Start enjoying your impending nuptials and stop worrying about me.”

“You’re sure?” Juliet asks. She and Romeo eventually got Benvolio to confess that he asked already Rosaline to model for him and blamed him for her early departure from the party. Rosaline claimed that while he did ask, it was not the entire reason she left when she did, and though she was shocked by his request, she wasn’t freaked out.

“Juliet, if I tell you I am fine, then I am fine,” she replies. “I haven’t been traumatized by the young Montague’s attentions, I promise.”

“Ros…” Juliet starts, hesitant.

“What now?”

“I was just wondering… wasn’t it nice having someone showing interest in you though?” she quickly asks, before she loses her nerve.

Rosaline thinks a moment before answering.  _He actually was nice. And sweet. And yes, he is good looking, I can admit that; I’m not blind. And he was definitely trying to impress me, for some reason._ “A little,” she admits. “I’m just not interested in a relationship yet.”

_Same old line._ “Yes, I know. But you could do worse than Benvolio Montague. Just saying,” Juliet replies.

“He’s unemployed,” Rosaline points out.

“Oh trust me, he’ll get a job as soon as he possibly can. He’s staying at Damiano’s right now, and the quicker he can get out of there, the better,” Juliet assure her. “You and Mom look like BFFs compared to Ben and Damiano.”

“Oh my God, really?” Rosaline asks, unable to even fathom that. Suddenly she finds more than a shred of sympathy – empathy – for her new friend. Or whatever he is.

“Yep. So… don’t shut him completely down, okay? Try to let yourself enjoy his attention. He’s… he’s kind of into you.”

“Gee, I hadn’t picked up on that at all.”

“Subtlety is not a strong suit of the Montague men, what can I say?” Juliet says. “Anyway, we’re having a Wedding Party Night Out this weekend.”

“Wedding Party Night Out? That’s not a thing,” Rosaline points out.

“It is now, because we just made it one. Livia’s already in, and so is Mercutio. Romeo’s talking to Ben right now, and…” she pauses, and Rosaline can hear Romeo in the background for a minute before Juliet says, “Yeah, he’ll be there too.”

“What are we doing?”

“We’re going bowling!”

Rosaline is silent for a moment. “Are we 65 years old?”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. You know I don’t like bars, and Romeo doesn’t drink anyway. We have to find alternate forms of entertainment,” Juliet presses.

“Okay,” Rosaline answers, laughing now, but she’s not really sure why.

“Oh, good! Saturday at eight, then. We’ll go play and then maybe hit someplace for dessert after,” Juliet says.

“All right,” Rosaline agrees.

xXx

Livia picked up Rosaline, since her apartment was on her way to the bowling alley, and the Capulet sisters arrived just as Romeo and Juliet are getting out of their car.

The four of them walk in together, thinking they will have to wait for everyone else, but Benvolio is already there.

“I didn’t see your car,” Romeo says, greeting his cousin.

“It’s out there. You probably couldn’t see it around the hearts in your eyes,” Benvolio replies. Then he hugs Juliet and greets Rosaline and Livia with a wave and friendly smile.

Rosaline wonders what Juliet – or possibly Romeo – said to him to prompt him to behave himself. He seems significantly more reserved than he was at the party.

A minute later, Mercutio and Tybalt arrive, followed by Truccio Montague. Tybalt and Truccio are the ushers for the wedding, completing their group of eight.

They get two lanes, intending to split into two groups of four.

“What are the teams?” Mercutio asks.

“Boys versus girls!” Juliet exclaims.

“Um, Jules, we have too many guys for that,” Livia points out.

“We could pick teams,” Truccio suggests, but everyone else shakes their head at that suggestion.

“Here,” Mercutio says, grabbing a napkin and carefully tearing it into eight sections. “Pen?” He holds out a hand, clearly expecting a pen to just appear there.

It does, since Rosaline had one in her purse.

Mercutio writes on the napkin pieces and then holds them in his cupped hands. “Four have X’s, four have O’s,” he explains.

They all choose and take their sides.

Juliet, Benvolio, Mercutio, and Truccio are one team, leaving Romeo with Rosaline, Livia, and Tybalt.

Rosaline was expecting Juliet to pout when Romeo’s O didn’t match her X, but she seemed quite happy to be on the opposing team and immediately began trash talking.

“I forgot how competitive she can be,” Rosaline had murmured to Livia.

“God, how could you forget that?” Livia replied, laughing as she bends over to tie her rented shoes.

They play three games. It turns out they are all terrible bowlers, so the scores are so pitiful that they decide it doesn’t even matter which team wins. Juliet is the only one who gets a strike, which she loudly celebrated. Tybalt considers it a victory if he hits a single pin.

Rosaline still cannot figure out what is troubling Benvolio. He winds up being one of the better bowlers in the group (along with Livia), but his subdued mood only seems to grow more cross as the night wears on.

Not that she is paying attention, mind.

“Where to now?” Livia asks, still full of energy.

Juliet picks up her shoes and says, “Someplace that has good dessert.”

“Put me down for ‘I don’t care’. I’m gonna run to the bathroom while you guys decide,” Rosaline says. She heads to the bathroom, pausing at the counter to return her shoes on the way.

When she comes out of the restroom, she very nearly runs into Truccio. He has been pretty quiet, so she hasn’t really gotten to know him at all while they were bowling.

“Oh!” she exclaims, laughing. “You surprised me.” He is standing uncomfortably close, so she backs up, automatically looking around the dimly-lit corridor for the rest of their group.

“Did I?” Truccio asks, moving closer again. “Are you sure?”

Rosaline’s brow furrows. She had  _thought_ he was a nice guy, but she finds herself feeling uneasy. “Um, yes,” she answers, taking another step back but finding the wall behind her. “Why would I be expecting to find you waiting for me here?”

He half-shrugs and answers, “Maybe because I saw how you were eyeing me all night.” His eyes slowly rake over her body before he adds, “Pointing that ass at me when you were bending over to pick up your ball.”

His hand closes around her wrist, and the warning bells that were already ringing softly in Rosaline’s mind start furiously clanging.

“Let go of me,” she says, trying to pull her arm free. “I don’t know what you _thought—_ ” she unsuccessfully pulls again, “you saw me doing, but…” she begins struggling in earnest, and when he tries to yank her towards him, she lifts up her knee and it connects sharply with his groin.

As he collapses in a heap, she sees Benvolio behind him, his hand hovering as if he had just been about to grab Truccio. His expression quickly changes from furious to concerned.

“Are you all right?” he asks, his voice soft. He doesn’t come near her; he simply watches her step away from the swearing Truccio, who apparently has sense enough to not try anything else now that Benvolio is there.

“I don’t know,” she honestly answers. She’s trembling and she _hates_ it, and hates that he is seeing her like this even while she’s tremendously grateful he is there.

“Go find your sister,” he says. “I’d like to have a _word_ with my cousin.”

“I’d like to go home,” she responds, not moving.

“I’ll take you home,” he immediately answers. “You should tell them what happened though.”

“I will tomorrow. I don’t want to ruin the evening; they’re still having fun.” He narrows his eyes, like he’s not sure that’s a good idea. “Please,” she adds.

“Promise me,” he says. “I don’t want this asshole anywhere near you again. Or anyone else, for that matter. They’re going to have to find another usher.”

“I promise I will tell them tomorrow,” she says.

“Okay. Go tell them you have a headache or something and I offered to drive you home so your sister can stay out,” he suggests.

Rosaline nods, turns away, then turns back and lightly touches his arm. “Thank you,” she says.

“You’re welcome,” he replies.

As she walks away, she can hear Benvolio quietly but fiercely ripping into his cousin.

“Hey, you okay?” Livia asks, able to immediately see that Rosaline isn’t as chipper as she was.

“Sort of. Getting a migraine,” she says. It’s not a complete lie at this point, and she has a history of migraines anyway, so it is a feasible excuse.

“Oh,” Livia replies, frowning. “I can take you—”

“I’ve already offered to take her home,” Benvolio interjects, appearing out of nowhere, looking completely unruffled. “Ran into her outside the bathrooms.”

“No, it’s all right, I can,” Livia says.

“I insist,” Benvolio presses. “You’re having a good time, and, well… you might have noticed I’m not in the most sociable mood tonight, so…”

“Really,” Mercutio sarcastically remarks, and Tybalt smacks him on the shoulder.

“It’s fine. I’m happy to see Rosaline home. You guys go have fun. Have a piece of peanut butter pie for me,” he says.

“Go home and get some sleep,” Livia says, hugging her sister. Juliet says much the same.

Just as they are leaving, Romeo pipes up, “Hey! Where’s Truccio? Did you see him?”

Benvolio turns around and says, “Oh yeah. He’s got the shits something fierce. He said he was going home.”

Rosaline coughs to hide her surprised guffaw.

xXx

Benvolio is quiet in the car, letting Rosaline decide if she wants to talk or not. At first, she only speaks to give him directions, but after a few minutes, she says, “Thank you again. It was fortunate you were there.”

“Looked to me like you had the matter well in hand,” he answers. “But my presence had very little to do with luck.”

She looks at him. “What?”

“He had been making comments about you all night,” he says. “Quiet, rude comments, only to me.”

“Ugh,” she groans, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the headrest.

“I guess I drew the short straw because Juliet is a woman and Mercutio is gay. He probably figured I would join in.” He glances at Rosaline. “I didn’t, obviously.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, feeling very uncomfortable about the whole evening now.

“For what it’s worth, I did tell him to shut up,” he continues. “Several times.”

“Take the next left,” she says, nodding, suddenly understanding his increasingly bad mood as the night wore on. “He claimed I had been flirting with him,” she adds after a long moment.

“You barely looked at him!” Benvolio exclaims. “Um, not that I was watching.”

Rosaline actually huffs a small laugh at that. “Right,” she replies.

“Sorry.”

“It’s… okay,” she answers, a little surprised to realize she doesn’t mind the prospect of _him_ watching her. She already knows he likes her, but unlike Truccio, he has been a gentleman about his interest. Even when he asked her to model for him, she instinctively knew his intentions were purely artistic. Well, mostly. “So you followed him then? To the bathroom?”

“When I realized you were still gone and _he_ was gone, I went to investigate, hoping my hunch was wrong,” he explains. “My intention was to stop him before he did something stupid, but I was too late. He’s always been an idiot. Romeo only asked him to be an usher because Uncle pressured him.”

Rosaline remembers what Juliet told her about Benvolio’s relationship with his uncle. “You don’t much like your uncle, do you?”

“No, I don’t. And I understand you and your aunt don’t exactly get along, either,” he answers.

“No, we don’t,” she echoes. “Up here on the right.”

He pulls up in front of her apartment, a smallish building with only 4 units.

When he shuts the car off, she looks at him. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s dark out. You’ve already been accosted once tonight because I was too late to prevent it. At least let me make sure it doesn’t happen a second time,” he says.

_He thinks it’s his fault?_ “Okay,” she relents, opening the car door.

He escorts her to the door and waits while she unlocks it. “Which one is you?” he asks.

“Upstairs on the left,” she answers. “It’s not much, but it’s my own space.”

“Away from your aunt,” he says, following her inside.

“Damn right,” she agrees, pausing by the stairs. “You don’t have to tuck me in or anything.”

He chuckles. “I know,” he answers, giving her a sad smile.

“Ben,” she says, surprising them both by reaching for his hand. “It’s not your fault. Truccio’s actions are his own.”

He nods, but doesn’t look mollified. Then he shakes his head and says, “No.”

“No?”

“You don’t need to be consoling me right now. This isn’t about me,” he explains. Then he looks at their joined hands and asks, “How is your wrist?”

She holds up her free hand, the one Truccio grabbed. “It’s a bit sore, but it’ll be okay,” she answers. “Might be a little bruised tomorrow.”

“Put some ice on it,” he advises.

“I will,” she replies. “Um, thanks again,” she says, gently dismissing him.

“You’re welcome,” he responds. “Get some rest.”

They stand awkwardly for a long moment. Then Rosaline suddenly reaches out and hugs him.

His arms automatically come up around her, his gentle hold a marked contrast to her surprisingly tight embrace.

Then she releases him with a soft, “Good night.”

“Good night,” he replies, then turns to leave.

She slowly makes her way up to her apartment, where, instead of icing her wrist, she draws herself a hot bath.

xXx

“He did _WHAT?_ ” Juliet shrieks. True to her word, she called her cousin the next morning.

“Don’t make me repeat it,” Rosaline answers with a sigh. “Benvolio saw most of it. He was just about to yank Truccio away from me when I kneed him in the balls.”

“So that’s why you left,” Juliet says.

“Yeah.”

“He’s out. I’ll call Romeo and tell him, and he’ll kick him out of the wedding. This is unforgivable,” Juliet says.

“Thank you. Ben said he would make sure Truccio wouldn’t come near me again,” Rosaline says.

“Do… do we need to call the cops or anything?” Juliet asks.

Rosaline is silent for a moment, thinking. “Do you think I should?”

“Yes,” she definitely states. “Romeo and Ben will make his life hell, too, but… yes.”

“Yeah, you’re right, you’re right. If nothing else, it might make him think twice before trying anything like that again,” Rosaline says.

“Good,” Juliet replies. “I’ll call Romeo right away.”

“Okay. Thanks. I need to call Livia, too, but she’s probably not up yet,” Rosaline says.

Juliet laughs. “Probably not. You okay?”

“Yes. Ben was… kind of great last night,” she admits. “He was a total gentleman.”

“So it’s ‘Ben’ now, huh?” Juliet teases.

“His full name is too long,” Rosaline defends herself. “Call Romeo already.”

“You’re evading, but okay. I do need to talk to you and Livia about wedding stuff later,” Juliet says.

“Later,” Rosaline sighs.

“Okay.”

They disconnect the call, and Rosaline stares at her phone, summoning up the will to call and file a complaint with the police.

When her phone goes off in her hand, she yelps in surprise and drops it on the bed.

It’s a text message from a number she doesn’t recognize, and her heart starts thumping.

_How are you doing?_ Immediately followed by,  _Sorry, this is Ben._

She heaves a relieved sigh, not sure if she was worried that Truccio had somehow gotten her number or if it was Escalus reaching out for some reason.

_R: How did you get my number?_

_B: Juliet gave it to me for wedding reasons. Hope that’s okay._

_R: Yeah. And I’m fine._

_B: Are you sure?_

_R: Yes. I was just about to call the cops to report Truccio._

There is a pause long enough for Rosaline to wonder if he was going to be upset about her reporting his cousin, but then he replies.

_B: Good. The man’s a dick. Please give them my information if they need a witness._

_R: Thank you._

Rosaline adds Benvolio to her contacts, then, bolstered by his support, looks up the non-emergency number of the Verona Police Department and makes the call.


	4. Chapter 4

The wedding is now just under a month away, and Rosaline has been thankful that things have quieted down since the bowling night. She’s been able to fully concentrate on her work again, which makes her happy. Even though she’s still waiting for things to finish up with the Truccio Situation, she’s been able to keep it out of her thoughts most of the time now.

She is just about to go to lunch when she gets a text from Benvolio.

_Call me when you get a second. Please._

Curious, she closes her door and calls him.

“What’s up?”

“My family is made up of terrible, awful people. Well, except Romeo,” he says.

“Why? What happened?” she asks, somehow knowing it has something to do with Truccio.

“My Aunt Tessa happened. Truccio’s mom. She got his punishment knocked down to just a fine,” he explains. “A fucking _fine_.”

“And of course she has a shit-ton of money, right?” she asks, pinching the bridge of her nose. She never thought Truccio would be thrown in jail, but was hoping he would have to do something like community service or take a class in _addition_ to a fine. A fine that his rich mother will simply pay accomplishes nothing.

“Naturally,” he confirms. “And my uncle is completely fine with it. Asshole.”

She sighs heavily, suddenly tired beyond measure. “What are you doing right now?”

“Pacing and fuming, why?”

“I was just about to go to lunch. Wanna meet me?”

“Yes, _please_. I need to get the hell out of this house,” he answers.

xXx

“I guess the good news is Tessa is moving him out of Madison,” Benvolio says, once they are seated with their sandwiches. He notices Rosaline looking incredulously over his shoulder at something, and turns around. “Oh, great.”

There is a man getting ready to play the banjo in the front of the sandwich shop.

“Just what this day needs,” Rosaline says. “Amateur banjo.”

Benvolio laughs, and it is such a rare sight that Rosaline can’t help smiling. “Where is she taking her precious baby boy?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know. Romeo is fairly sure it’s out of state though.”

“Great. So he can menace women _there_ instead,” she comments.

“I thought that, too. That’s why the guys and I are going to make sure we stay on his ass through Facebook and Twitter. If you can think of any better or additional ideas, I’m all ears,” he says.

“Castration comes to mind, but that’s probably neither practical nor viable,” she suggests, and he snorts another laugh. “Honestly, I’m… grateful for anything you guys can do. You don’t have to, and I appreciate that.”

“You’re very welcome. We’d really rather not be part of the problem,” he explains. “Being complicit is nearly as bad as committing the act yourself.”

“Good point,” she says. They are quiet for a few moments, just eating their lunches.

“His banjo playing is pretty good. But his singing sucks,” he remarks after a time.

This time Rosaline laughs, and Benvolio’s face lights up.

“What?” she asks.

“I’ve never seen you laugh like that. Even when we were bowling, you didn’t really laugh,” he remarks. “You should do it more.”

“We all should,” she says, her face growing a little sad now. “I just haven’t had much reason for laughter for… well, most of my life, to be honest.” She takes a sip of her soda and sees him staring at her. “Was that oversharing?”

He blinks. “No, no… it’s just… I could say the same about my life,” he explains.

“Yeah, Juliet said you and your uncle don’t get along,” she says. “I’m guessing that’s why you spent the last six years in France?”

He nods. “And ‘don’t get along’ is putting it mildly. He hates me, and I hate him,” he says. “I was nothing but an inconvenience and a burden to him, even though it is  _his_ fault my parents died and I had to be raised by him.”

“What?”

“Damiano was a drunk. Well, I guess he still is technically an alcoholic, since they say you always are one even if you stop drinking. But he killed my parents in a drunk driving accident when I was two,” he says. “Nobody knows why my parents even got into that car with his drunk ass behind the wheel,” he adds, shaking his head.

“That’s why Romeo doesn’t drink,” Rosaline softly says, unable to form any other coherent thought.

“That’s why Romeo doesn’t drink,” Benvolio repeats, nodding. “Damiano didn’t quit drinking until Aunt Carolina died. But before then, he was a raging drunk, and I was his favorite target.”

“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” she says, reaching across and putting her hand over his. Then, before she can stop the words, she asks, “Did he kill her, too?”

“Not directly,” he answers. “She killed herself.”

“Holy shit,” she whispers.

“Yeah. We all blame him,” he says. “Romeo didn’t talk to him for a while. That was a hard year.”

“I can imagine,” she says.

“Can I ask… how did your parents die?” he quietly inquires.

“My father was in the Army. He died in Iraq. Mom had ovarian cancer. She was diagnosed right before Dad died,” she says.

“I’m so sorry. That had to have been rough rough,” he sincerely replies.

“Thank you. Mom never got to tell him she was ill. She said she was happier knowing he died unaware of it,” she says.

“That makes a certain sort of sense, I guess,” he comments.

She nods. “At the time, I didn’t understand it, but when I grew up and fell in love myself, I did,” she unthinkingly says.  _Shit._

“Yeah,” he agrees, but doesn’t press. He promised Juliet he would tread carefully, and so carefully he shall tread. “But anyway, we’ve lost the original point of our conversation,” he says, trying to redirect.

“I really don’t want to talk about Truccio anymore. There’s nothing for it. I don’t have the money or influence to fight Tessa, and I don’t have the energy either. He’s going to be gone, you guys aren’t going to leave him alone, and that’s good enough for me right now,” she says.

“Okay,” Benvolio says, finished eating. He folds the paper that was around his sandwich again and again as he talks. “Romeo asked his friend Paris to be the replacement usher. I don’t know him, but Romeo assures me he’s a decent guy.” He slides the square of parchment into his chip bag, and folds that in half as well.

“Good to know,” Rosaline replies. “How does he know him?”

“College, I think,” he answers with a light shrug. “He’s from Brookfield or something.”

“Mmm,” she replies with a nod, wadding up the paper from her sandwich and stuffing it into her empty chip bag, which is split down the center. “I’m sure he’s fascinating.”

Benvolio laughs. “You really could not care less,” he says.

“Nope,” she confirms. “This wedding cannot be over with soon enough for my taste,” she adds.

“Understood,” he says. “I should let you get back to work,” he quickly adds, before she realizes why he understands. “Thanks again for lunch.”

“Hey, it’s the least I could do for my hero,” she jokes, nudging him with her elbow as they walk out. “Besides, you’re unemployed.”

“There it is,” he laughs. Then, despite the sub-par performance, he drops a dollar in the banjo player’s jar. Outside, he sees Rosaline side-eyeing him and says, “You’ll forgive me if I have a soft spot for struggling artists.”

xXx

The next weekend, everyone piles over to Romeo and Juliet’s new place, a small apartment that everyone is surprised their parents are allowing them to share before the wedding.

Even though the wedding is only a few weeks away now.

It’s also the Fourth of July, so they are grilling burgers on a tiny grill on their postage stamp of a balcony before all going out later to watch the fireworks over Lake Mendota.

Rosaline is chatting with Juliet in the kitchen, scooping balls of melon out of a cantaloupe, when she hears someone arrive.

“Oh! That’s Paris,” Juliet says. “Come meet him.” She grabs Rosaline’s hand and tugs her the three steps into the main living area.

She sees a tall, handsome young man shaking hands with Benvolio, then Livia. His smile broadens as he greets the younger Capulet sister.

“Ah!” Romeo exclaims, seeing Rosaline. “And this is Rosaline Capulet, the maid of honor. Ros, this is Paris Mantua. I promise he will not attempt to assault you.”

“Romeo!” Juliet and Benvolio both exclaim, embarrassed and horrified, respectively.

“It’s fine,” Rosaline assures them, extending her hand towards Paris. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Paris greets her. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same,” she replies. “Sorry if my hand is sticky. I was making fruit salad.”

“Not a problem,” he laughs. “Hey, Rosaline Capulet,” he suddenly says. “You were the one who was engaged to Escalus Prince, right?” he casually asks.

The rest of the room falls silent, and it feels like everyone is holding their breath, unsure how Rosaline is going to respond.

“Yes…?” she hesitantly answers, trying to ignore how Mercutio is visibly cringing behind Paris.

“God, I mean he always was kind of a dick, but now that I’ve met you, I now know for a fact that he’s also an idiot,” he responds.

“Y-you know Escalus?” she asks, only stammering a little, despite being completely thrown off by the unexpected comment.

“Oh yeah, we go way back,” he answers. “We were at St. John’s together. Way I see it, you should have dumped him, not the other way around.”

“What?” It’s the only thing Rosaline can think to say.

“Yeah. He was always an arrogant, self-centered asshole. Like… he thought he was better than the rest of us at the Academy because his dad was a mayor. There were at least six other guys who had dads that were mayors or judges or some shit,” he says.

“Right,” she slowly agrees. “I suppose… it’s a private military boarding school. Most of you guys probably came from rich families,” she guesses.

“Exactly,” he exclaims, shedding no light on whether or his family is wealthy or not. “Anyway, you dodged a bullet there.”

“How do you know I’m not an awful person? I could be terrible; you only just met me,” she replies, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Well, for starters, Juliet talks about you like you’re her hero. And you’re okay by my homie-o Romeo here, so you gotta be a good person. Plus Chuckles over there has been nothing but ‘heart eyes, motherfucker’ since you came out here,” he answers. At her incredulous expression, he adds, “Sorry. I’m studying Criminal Justice… reading people is kind of my Thing these days.”

“Um, okay. Uh, thanks,” she responds, still thrown off by this strange, charming character. “I… need to go finish making my salad, Nice meeting you,” she says, forces a smile, and heads back to the tiny kitchen. She tries not to notice how red Benvolio has turned. She’s not sure if it’s out of embarrassment over being called out on his obvious crush on her or if he simply didn’t enjoy being called “Chuckles.”

She also tries not to hear Romeo and Juliet quietly telling Paris that he should maybe not bring up the subject of Escalus ever again.

_They need to stop treating me like I have some sort of fatal disease_ , she thinks, picking up her melon baller. She didn’t exactly enjoy the conversation, but it was nice to have someone not tiptoe around it for once. She shoves the baller into the melon and scoops.

“You okay?”

It isn’t Juliet’s voice, but Benvolio’s that sounds behind her.

“Yeah. Just surprised,” she sighs, not looking up from her work. “I mean I guess I’ve gotten used to the fact that everyone in town knows about my humiliation. I guess it was too much to hope that it stay local.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies.

She turns around. “I suppose you already know, since you haven’t asked.”

“Juliet told me,” he answers. “Don’t be mad at her.”

Rosaline sighs. “I guess I prefer it to having to tell the story myself,” she says. “Do you have any questions?”

“Not for you, no,” Benvolio responds. “Any questions I have would be directed at Escalus.”

She stares at him for a moment, then decides not to ask, not that she really needs to. “Okay,” she says, relieved he didn’t ask her anything. She goes back to work, but senses he’s still there. “Would you get the grapes out of the fridge and wash them? If you’re going to hover, you may as well be useful.”

xXx

It turned out that Romeo is actually a very good grill chef. The burgers were cooked to perfection, and everyone ate their fill and spent the evening happy and laughing. When it came time to move the party to the lake for fireworks, they all piled into as few cars as possible and headed out.

Rosaline wound up crammed in the back of Romeo’s car, practically sitting on Benvolio. She tried not to notice how good he smelled or how she seemed to fit against him quite nicely. She tried not to notice how he wedged himself against the door to try to give her more room.

When they finally found a parking spot and a place to spread out their blankets, Rosaline realized she left her sweater in her car, back at Romeo and Juliet’s.

“Crap,” she says. “Well, it shouldn’t get too cold. I should be okay.”

“Who are you talking to?” Livia asks.

“Myself. I left my sweater in my car,” Rosaline answers.

“Hope you don’t need it,” Livia replies. “And you can’t have mine.”

Rosaline laughs, and begins to sit. She expects Livia to join her on the blanket, but just then Paris calls to her, asking her to come sit by him. She raises her eyebrow as her younger sister goes to join him, leaving her alone.

“Ben, there’s a spot by Ros,” Juliet pipes up, grinning up at Rosaline from her place tucked against Romeo. On another blanket beside them, Mercutio and Tybalt are getting cozy.

“Oh, so we’re all pairing off then?” she mutters to herself. She is becoming conflicted about this whole Benvolio situation. She can admit she likes him. He’s kind and handsome and has never given any indication of being a bad guy at all. She would maybe even date him if she wasn’t still so…

_No. I’m fine._

What she  doesn’t like is everyone else trying to push them together.  _It’s none of their business._

“Hey,” Benvolio says, plunking himself down beside her. “This okay?”

“Sure,” she answers. “Bug spray?” she asks, offering him the can that Juliet had passed her a minute ago.

“Nah, I’m good. Mosquitoes don’t bother me,” he answers.

“Lucky. Hey, Liv,” she calls, then tosses the repellant to her sister. “They love me.”

“That must be because you’re so sweet,” he replies, being intentionally cheesy.

“Ugh,” she groans, then opens a bottle of water she brought along. She takes a drink, then settles in, trying to get comfortable as they wait for it to get dark enough for the fireworks.

“Do you like fireworks?” Benvolio asks, setting his phone down. They had both taken a few moments to catch up on notifications and emails while they wait.

“Eh, they’re okay,” Rosaline answers. “I’m kind of indifferent, I guess. I mostly go to spend time with my friends.” She looks around. “Friends who are currently all absorbed in their significant others,” she observes, noting how cozy Livia and Paris have gotten.

Benvolio looks over at them. “Well then,” he comments.  _I can’t say I don’t believe in love at first sight,_ he thinks, but knows better than to say it. He lies down on his back, using his hoodie as a pillow.

“Did you miss this when you were away?” Rosaline asks.

“What all this… patriotic hoopla? Not really,” he answers. “The fireworks are kind of fun, but I hate parades.”

“You hate parades?” she asks, puzzling at him.

He sighs. “I was in marching band when I was in high school,” he says. “I have been in too many parades to enjoy watching them anymore.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” she replies. “What did you play?”

“Saxophone. And no, I don’t play anymore.”

“Gave up music for art, hey?”

“Something like that,” he says. He sees her absently rubbing her arms. “Are you cold?”

“Hmm?” She drops her hands, folding them in her lap. “I’m fine.”

He looks at her like he doesn’t quite believe her, but then the first firework shoots into the sky and saves them from trying to make more conversation.

Eventually, Rosaline lies down to watch as well, using her bent arm as a pillow as she reclines on her side. Benvolio considers offering his shoulder, but, again, decides it’s probably not a good idea.

“Hey, do you… oh,” he says a short time later, his question dying on his lips when he sees her eyes are closed.

She’s sleeping. She looks like an angel, her face relaxed and soft, the lights from the fireworks illuminating her dark skin.

Then she shivers and curls into herself a bit. He sits up, un-wads his hoodie, and carefully places it over her.


	5. Chapter 5

_You still up?_

The text comes at 10:38 p.m., and Rosaline is indeed still up.

_Yeah. What’s up?_ she returns.

Benvolio is quick to reply.  _I need to be not in my uncle’s house tonight._

She is already typing her reply of  _Sure, come over_ when he sends another text.

_I don’t want to impose on Romeo and Juliet’s love nest and Merc and Tybalt aren’t home._

She chuckles, sends her text, and then adds  _So I’m your third choice?_

Her doorbell buzzes immediately after she sends it, and she knows he must have already been right outside.

She buzzes him in and the first thing he says is, “You’re not my third choice. You were my first choice, but I didn’t want you to think my intentions were less than honorable.”

She closes the door and says, “I know. Just giving you shit.” In truth, she knows that all she would have to do is say the word and they could have themselves quite the nice little makeout session on the couch. At the very least. “Make yourself at home,” she adds, pushing away the thought. No matter how intriguing or attractive it may be.

“Thanks,” he says, taking his shoes off before moving to sit on her couch. “You’re really okay with me crashing here?”

“It’s fine,” she answers. “That’s your bed though,” she adds, pointing at the couch.

“I’ve slept on worse,” he simply replies with a shrug and no further explanation.

“Do you want something to drink? I have… water. Tea. Um, ginger ale…”

“I’m good right now, thanks. You weren’t about to go to bed or anything, were you? Because if you were, don’t feel like you have to entertain me,” he says.

“Nah, I’m usually up till at least 11. Always been a night owl,” she answers, sitting on the other end of the couch.

“Me too,” he replies. “I’d probably stay up all night if I could… largely doing nothing,” he laughs.

Rosaline laughs with him. “Yup. You know what I was doing when you texted?”

“What?”

“Watching a rerun of _Good Eats_ and scrolling through Tumblr like it was my job or something,” she answers.

He simply nods and says, “Perfectly reasonable.”

“I’ll… get you some blankets,” she says after a second. Then she gets up and walks across the room and disappears into a hallway.

Benvolio watches her walk away, appreciating how she looks in the shorts and tank top that must be her pajamas. Her long legs, slender arms; all smooth brown skin and graceful curves. He even likes how she looks with her hair all tied up in the colorful scarf she has wrapped around her head.  _I still want to paint her._

She returns a couple of minutes later with a pillow and some blankets, which she hands to him.

“Thanks,” he says, setting them to the side for now. “What’s he making?”

“Stuff with squash,” she answers. “I’ve seen this one like three times.”

“Then why are you watching it again?”

She shrugs. “I was basically using it for background noise.”

He nods, then pulls one of the blankets up, covering his legs.

“Are you cold?” she aks.

“Nah, I just like blankets,” he answers. “Even in summer.”

She smiles, regarding him across the couch.  _He really can be adorable sometimes._ Her smile fades as she thinks about the fact that he’s somehow managed to become a really good guy despite his unpleasant upbringing.

“What?” he asks, seeing the change in her expression.

“Hmm? Oh. Nothing,” she answers, waving her hand.

“What is it?” he presses. “You’re not going to upset or offend me, I promise.”

“Why did you need to get away from your uncle tonight?” she asks.

“Oh. He was getting on my ass about finding a job. He wants me out of his house,” he answers. Then he snorts and says, “What he doesn’t seem to realize is that _I_ want me out of his house more than he does.”

She wonders again why he came back, and decides to ask. “ When you said you came back here because you like this area, was that the truth?”

“Actually it is. It’s messed up, I know,” he answers, chuckling without humor. “But sometimes what is familiar is easier, even if it’s awful. The devil you know, I guess.”

An alarm bell sounds in Rosaline’s head. “Ben…” she starts.

“Yes?”

“When you said you were his favorite target, did that mean what I think it meant?” she asks.

“Yes,” he answers, holding her gaze. “Romeo tried to protect me, but he was younger and smaller – he was a runt until he was about 15 – and he really couldn’t do much to help. And before you ask, Aunt Carolina didn’t know. He always managed to smack me around when she wasn’t there. And I never told her.”

“Does he still hit you?” she asks.

“Not since I started hitting back. I may not be a very big guy, but I’m a lot stronger than I look and he knows it. I was 18 the last time he tried. It was over my going to France. I put him on his ass. Then I didn’t go back home for three days,” he says. “I thought he would call the cops. He didn’t.”

“Because he knew you’d tell them how he had been treating you,” she theorizes.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I never told anyone until after I left. It took being away for me to learn I had nothing to be ashamed of and discovered it felt kind of good to let it out.”

Rosaline reaches her hand out and reaches for his. “I am so sorry you had to grow up with that,” she says. She completely understands the reluctance to speak up, the fear of repercussions being so great that it literally paralyzes you, the feeling that you deserve to be treated that way.

“Thanks,” Benvolio replies with a sad smile. “But from what I understand, you didn’t really have it any easier, did you?”

“Well, no one was hitting me, but my aunt was – is – a cruel bitch. At least to me she is,” she answers. “She’s slightly better to Livia, so that’s good.” She exhales and says, “I was never good enough. Nothing I ever did was right. I got straight A’s in school. Never was in trouble. Kept my room clean. Didn’t ask for shit. She still treated me like I was nothing but an inconvenience and a burden.”

“Sometimes words hurt more than hands,” he quietly replies, looking down at their hands like he is just noticing they are still joined. “Those are the wounds that are usually not seen by anyone.” He looks over at her. “You hide your feelings really well, Ros,” he says. “Too well sometimes.”

“I know,” she admits, her mind spinning as it tries to avoid the Escalus in the room. “It started out as a self-preservation tactic. I thought if Giuliana couldn’t see how upset she was making me, maybe she’d lose interest. You know, like they say you should do with a bully in school.”

“Right.”

“But she seemed to only be happy if she was berating me about something. I went to school in Eau Claire just because it was nearly three hours away.” She gives him a sideways look and says, “Some of us didn’t have the means to go to Europe for their education.”

He snorts and says, “I know, I know… I was lucky. Only child, for one thing. My parents had the fund set up before they died and then when they did, most of their assets went into that fund because I was a minor. That was what they specified. Would have been nice if they had specified that I not have to live with the drunk uncle who killed them, but I guess there’s nothing for it now.”

“At least they had a will,” she responds.

“Did your parents not?” he asks.

“Oh, they did. But I know it can get pretty messy without one. Your uncle would have tried to take everything for sure,” she says.

“Oh yeah,” he agrees.

“If I could have gone to France, or Italy… England… Bora Bora… I would have. I would have studied on the moon just to get as far away from her as possible,” she says.

He nods. “I totally get that.” He studies her a moment, wondering how different it would have been had he met her in France. Then he thinks about her in Bora Bora, lounging in the sun in a bikini, and he has to slightly shake his head to clear it.

She slips her hand out of his and picks up the remote control, looking for new background noise since  _Good Eats_ ended and the new show on is one she doesn’t really like. “Ooo,  _Planet Earth_ ,” she murmurs, turning on the nature program before putting her feet up on the couch, scooting them under the edge of Benvolio’s blanket. “So, tell me… did you leave some poor heartbroken French girl behind when you came back?”

He snorts a laugh, tucking the blanket around her feet. “No. I didn’t date that much, honestly. Apart from one very diverting summer in Rome with a young lady named Stella, I didn’t have any girlfriends. None that were serious, anyway.”

“Concentrating on your studies,” she suggests.

“Actually, yes,” he agrees. “I figured if I was spending my dead parents’ money on an expensive education, I’m going to give them their money’s worth.”

“I’m sure they are very proud of you,” she says, giving him a sympathetic smile.

He nods, then tilts his head at her. “So why did  _you_ come back here?” he asks, lightly poking her in the shoulder.

“Job. Why else?” she answers. “I work in Madison, but I couldn’t afford my own place there. I could here. It’s only a 20 minute drive.”

“Practical,” he says.

“I’m glad you approve,” she replies, lightly shoving him in the leg with her foot.

“But—”

“But?” she echoes.

“Surely you looked for jobs in other places. Milwaukee, Minneapolis, Chicago… and don’t tell me the only thing you could get was in Madison, because I refuse to believe that,” he says.

“They recruited me,” she explains. “I didn’t… I didn’t really even get a chance to look, they wanted me that badly.”

She looks rather sheepish about the situation, and Benvolio realizes she doesn’t want to look like she’s bragging.  _Cruel upbringing or genuine humility? Perhaps both._ “That’s really cool,” he says.

“Luckily, I like my job,” Rosaline says. “I might get a place with Livia once she graduates. In another 20 years.”

He snorts a laugh. “Takes a long time to become a doctor,” he says. “From what I’ve seen, she seems like she’ll be really good at it though.”

“She will,” she agrees, nodding. She readjusts again, making herself more comfortable on the couch. Benvolio does as well.

Soon, they are lounging on opposite ends of the couch and the blanket is spread across both of them.

“You’re getting tired,” she says.

“Your eyes are closed,” he counters, smiling at her.

“Some of us have jobs.”

“I’m not holding you hostage.”

She sighs. “I’m cozy now though.”

“This is a very comfortable couch,” he observes, watching her with interest.

“That’s why I bought it,” she concurs.

He can feel her smooth, warm legs next to his, her slender feet near his hip. He wants to slide his hand under the blanket and feel if her skin is as soft as it looks, but he grips the blanket instead. He doesn’t realize how long they’ve been silent until he looks over at her and sees she has finally drifted off.

“Goodnight, Rosaline,” he says, kissing his fingertips and pressing them to the back of her hand, which he can just barely reach across the top of the blanket. Then he turns off the TV, scoots a little lower to lie down, and closes his eyes.

xXx

Benvolio blinks awake, groaning as he feels the ache in the side of his neck from sleeping in an odd position on Rosaline’s couch. He stretches and then realizes he is alone. The other end of the couch is empty and he hears no sounds indicating that she is home.

_Oh yeah. She has a job._ He sits up and runs his hand through his hair. He remembers briefly waking up around three to find her legs now fully stretched out alongside him and his hand resting on the back of her knee, almost holding it. She was also softly snoring, which he found strangely endearing.

He looks down at the coffee table and sees she has left him a note.  _Had to go to work. There is a towel in the bathroom for you if you want to shower. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen for breakfast. Just don’t eat all of my Cinnamon Toast Crunch. -R._

There is also a key there, which he assumes is to lock the door when he leaves. He hopes it’s a spare, because he intends to try to leave her alone until next weekend, which is when the wedding is. If she needs it, he’ll drop it off at her work. He picks up his phone and sends her a quick text, thanking her for her hospitality and asking about the key.

Her reply comes promptly:  _You can give it to me next weekend unless you see me before then._

Benvolio smiles, stands, and heads to the bathroom to empty his bladder before investigating her kitchen.

xXx

Rosaline finally meets Damiano Montague at the rehearsal, and is immediately impressed by how much of a profound asshole he is. He reminds her a bit of her aunt: only loves their own offspring and has nothing but disdain at best for anyone else.

“Wow, your uncle really is awful,” she whispers to Benvolio, a smile plastered on her face as they practice walking up the aisle. “I mean I believed you, but damn.”

“Yup,” he simply agrees.

She spends the rest of the rehearsal and subsequent dinner – Damiano had reserved a private room in a fine dining restaurant, of course – strenuously avoiding the Montague patriarch as well as her own aunt.

Luckily, Juliet keeps her occupied and Benvolio keeps her entertained. Once, she laughed loudly at something he said in her ear and caught Damiano giving them a curious look. She quickly took a drink of her water and resolved not to look in his direction again. She also hoped he wouldn’t give Benvolio the third degree over it later.

Fortunately,  _that_ “later” would be much later, as after dinner, the wedding party goes out as a group in lieu of having traditional bachelor and bachelorette parties.

Unfortunately, tonight’s definition of “out” in Romeo and Juliet’s world is mini golf.

“Have you ever played mini golf with Juliet?” Rosaline quietly asks Benvolio just after they pay, tugging him with her over by Mercutio and Tybalt. Livia was too close to Juliet, and therefore must pay the price for her foolish choice.

“No, why? Is she terrible?” he returns.

“Depends on your definition of ‘terrible’,” Tybalt mutters. “We’ve got our foursome!” he then calls to the others, physically huddling their group together.

Rosaline sees Livia give her a slightly dirty look, and she just grins in return. Then she waves for the four of them to go first. “She is a total stickler for the rules,” she tells Benvolio. “Like… our rule is if the ball doesn’t make it and rolls all the way back to you, it’s like it never happened. So it doesn’t count. And we don’t make you take an extra stroke if your ball goes off the green,” she explains, her cousin Tybalt nodding emphatically beside her.

“To Juliet, Every. Stroke. Counts,” Tybalt says. “It bounces out? Extra stroke. Goes in the creepy blue water? Extra stroke. I mean come on, this isn’t the PGA.”

“Wow, okay,” Benvolio says. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Yeah, thanks. This is just mini golf. Supposed to be fun,” Mercutio says.

“Remember how she was at bowling?” Rosaline asks.

“Oh. Yeah,” Mercutio answers.

Rosaline sees a slight shadow cross Benvolio’s face at the memory of the bowling night, and she reaches out and squeezes his arm.

“Hey, we’re up. Ladies first,” Mercutio says, motioning for Rosaline to proceed.

xXx

Rosaline turns out to be the best mini-golfer of her group. This makes her secretly happy, especially because Mercutio seems rather annoyed by how much better than him she is, but she resists the urge to gloat. Even after her second hole-in-one.

After all, she does not want to appear hypocritical.

The 17 th hole is one of those multi-level affairs, where the ball has to go through a  short  series of holes and tunnels before it reaches the  _real_ hole. Rosaline and Tybalt are fortunate enough to hit their balls into the hole in the top level that takes them down to the final green, but Mercutio and Benvolio have to hit theirs into the hole on the second tier.

While Rosaline and Tybalt wait at the bottom, her cousin decides it is a good time to start asking Questions.

“Hey,” he quietly says, sidling up beside her.

“Hello,” she replies.

“So… what’s up with you and Ben?” he asks, getting directly to the point.

She looks at him, trying to decide if he means what she thinks he means. He raises his eyebrows, and she takes that as an indication that he does. “Nothing is up. We’ve become friends, that’s all,” she answers.

“How very uninteresting,” he answers. “And disappointing.”

“You guys have a pool you’re trying to win or something?” she asks. “Come on, how hard can it be?” she yells up at the other two, who seem to be taking an unreasonably long amount of time.

“That’s what she said!” Mercutio yells back.

Benvolio smacks him on the shoulder and says, “Dude, that doesn’t even make sense.”

“No pool,” Tybalt says. “Merc and I just don’t understand why you haven’t… gotten all up on that. I mean, _look_ at him. He’s adorable. And clearly into you.” Benvolio’s red golf ball appears out of the chute just then. “About time!” Tybalt calls.

“You _know_ why,” Rosaline replies, frowning.

“We’ve all had bad breakups, Ros,” Tybalt says, but his voice is kind. “Okay, yeah, yours was epic, but that—” He stops abruptly when Benvolio comes within earshot.

“I hate this hole,” he grumbles.

“That’s what _he_ said,” Rosaline quickly quips, and Benvolio laughs.

“Wait, what did I miss?” Mercutio demands, walking in on the laughter. His orange ball had finally made its appearance moments before. It knocks against Rosaline’s light blue one.

“Not my ball,” she answers, deftly avoiding any further questions because her ball has been knocked farther away from the hole.

However, when she still sinks it in one stroke, Mercutio’s pouting resumes.

“You’re really good at this,” Benvolio says.

“I’ve always had a knack for mini golf,” she replies. “Don’t ask me to play _real_ golf, but I can putt with the best of them.”

As they walk to the last hole, they see Paris celebrating and Juliet pouting. “I guess we know who won,” he says with a laugh.

“Yeah, but Romeo will buy her a Choco Taco and she’ll be happy as a clam,” she replies.

“Oh, that sounds good,” he says. “I could use one of those.”

Rosaline laughs, then drops her ball and steadies it with her foot.

She lines up, putts, and they all watch as her ball rolls straight down the green and into the hole, where it falls through to a crate underneath.

“Again??” comes Mercutio’s incredulous cry. “Mother f—” His curse is cut off by Tybalt’s hand.

“Babe… there are kids here!” he says. “Chill.”

“Next time, Mercutio gets to be in Juliet’s group,” Bevolio says to Rosaline, but he doesn’t bother saying it quietly.

xXx

After ice creams are consumed by all – Rosaline bought Benvolio a Choco Taco – they reluctantly decided it was time to return to their respective sleeping places. Juliet was spending the night at her parents’ house instead of their apartment, Paris was staying at the apartment so he wouldn’t have to drive to and from Brookfield again, and Livia was staying at Rosaline’s just because.

Juliet confessed she wanted them to come and stay over at the Capulet house, but decided keeping the peace between the warring factions of her mother and her cousins was more important. Plus, they knew if they were all together they wouldn’t get any sleep because they’d stay up all night talking and goofing around like they did when they were kids.

“You can stay at the apartment, too, Ben,” Romeo offers as they walk to the parking lot. “Just run home, get your stuff, and come over.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Benvolio answers. “He’ll be in bed by now anyway.”

“Well, the offer is there if you change your mind,” Romeo says.

“If Ben is coming over, so am I,” Mercutio pipes up.

“No, you’re not,” Tybalt disagrees.

“Oh. Right. I’m not,” Mercutio says, as if he suddenly remembered he lives with his boyfriend. Tybalt smacks him on the arm. “Now is not the time for foreplay,” he says, and Tybalt just rolls his eyes.

“You can come to my place again if your uncle is up and being a bitch. If you don’t want to go to Romeo’s, I mean,” Rosaline whispers as she hugs Benvolio goodnight. It just came out before she could really even think about it, but she hopes he takes the invitation for what it is: a simple gesture of solidarity and understanding between two people with similar unpleasant experiences.

“Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he answers, giving her an extra squeeze. She feels so nice and smells so good he finds it difficult to let go, but he manages it. “See you tomorrow,” he says.

“Yep,” she replies. _Let’s get this thing over with._


	6. Chapter 6

The day of the wedding is a bustle of activity, culminating in everyone descending on the church for final preparations.

The women are all in one room, keeping Juliet sequestered while the men basically mill around the rest of the church, waiting.

Just as Juliet finishes her makeup, there is a knock on the door. It isn’t a timid knock; it is demanding and businesslike.

“Giuliana,” Rosaline mutters, just as the door opens and her aunt appears, not having waited for someone to let her in.

Sylvestro is hovering in the doorway, wanting to make sure everyone is decent before entering.

“For heaven’s sake, Sylvestro, come in and close the door before someone sees Juliet!” Giuliana orders, and he steps in and closes the door.

Rosaline resumes working on Livia’s makeup and decides to ignore her aunt. It is difficult. Giuliana is loud.

“Juliet, darling, you look gorgeous! Simply gorgeous!” she gushes, carefully hugging her daughter. “Romeo is going to be blown away at the sight of you.”

“Thanks, Mom. You look nice, too,” Juliet replies. “Hi, Dad.”

Sylvestro doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, but when his daughter greets him, he steps over and gives her a hug.

“Carefully, Sylvestro! Don’t rumple her gown or smudge her makeup!” Giuliana chides.

True to form, he says nothing, placing a gentle kiss on his daughter’s cheek. “You look lovely, darling,” he says, then steps back before his wife decides to shove him out of the way.

“Yes, lovely, lovely. That Montague boy doesn’t know how lucky he is,” she says. “My Juliet knows how to keep her man,” she pointedly adds, giving Rosaline a sideways look.

“Mom…” Juliet says.

“What? All I’m saying is I know we don’t have to worry about _this_ one cancelling at the last minute because you aren’t—”

“Mother!” Juliet snaps. She can see Rosaline carefully controlling herself a short distance away as she puts away the makeup. Livia is pretending she isn’t there, probably mentally naming the parts of the alimentary system or something to distract her.

Giuliana innocently blinks at her daughter. “I’m not saying anything that everyone here doesn’t already know,” she says.

“That does not mean it is appropriate,” Sylvestro says, his voice low but stern. “Come along now,” he says, reaching for her arm to guide her out of the room before someone punches her.

Giuliana evades his grasp. “I would like to spend some time with my daughter before her wedding,” she haughtily replies.

Rosaline stands. “I think I’ll go make sure all the guys look presentable,” she announces, then walks from the room, her head held high.

She closes the door behind her and keeps walking until she is outside. It is a perfect day: blue skies dotted with some light, puffy clouds, a light breeze; warm, but not too hot.

She lifts her face, letting the sun soak into her skin, willing her annoyance with her aunt to flow down and out through the soles of her feet and into the blacktop surface of the parking lot.

“You look beautiful.”

She has learned not to be surprised when Benvolio appears.

“Thank you,” she says. “I don’t much like this color, but it’s Juliet’s favorite.” She looks down at her fairly simple one-shoulder, A-line chiffon gown. She likes everything about it except the coral color.

“It is a very flattering color for you,” he says, stepping closer. “Of course, I don’t know if there is a color that would not be flattering on you.”

“Flatterer,” she says, laughing.

“You really do look beautiful though,” he says. “It’s a shame the wedding isn’t out here. The sunlight is—”

“Flattering?”

He laughs. “I was going to say it favors you, but… yeah.”

“Come here. Your tie is wonky,” she says.

He obediently steps over and allows her to straighten his tie. “Why are you out here?”

“Giuliana,” she says, but doesn’t elaborate.

“Understood,” he replies.

She straightens his tie, then his boutonniere. “Apparently it was my fault Escalus broke up with me. According to my aunt, anyway,” she says, her hands sliding down his lapels before falling at her sides.

“She is an insane person who doesn’t know what the fuck she is talking about,” he replies.

“That knowledge is the only thing that keeps me somewhat sane,” she says with a sigh. She catches movement in the corner of her eye and turns her head to see her uncle walking towards them.

“What are you doing out here?” Sylvestro asks.

“Talking to Ben,” Rosaline answers.

“She fixed my tie and flower,” Benvolio says.

“Juliet would like you to come back inside. She wants pictures with you and Livia,” Sylvestro says.

“All right,” Rosaline answers, trying not to sigh. “Make sure the others don’t look a mess,” she tells Benvolio. He nods, and she adds, “I’m trusting you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responds with a salute, then marches into the church.

She walks to the church in silence with her uncle. Just before they reach the doors, he quietly says, “You look beautiful, too, Rosaline.”

She stops short and looks at him, surprised.

“Just in case no one has told you yet.”

“Thank you,” she replies, deciding not to tell him that Benvolio had already complimented her.

xXx

The wedding passes in a blur. Rosaline remembers a lot of talking. And wishing she could take her shoes off. And the expression on Benvolio’s face as he looked over at her during the ceremony.

She liked that expression. It made her feel, well, beautiful. As she walked back up the aisle, she suddenly realized that Escalus never looked at her the way Benvolio did, and she almost tripped.

Benvolio made sure she didn’t fall, and asked if she was all right afterwards.

She began wondering if she should stop resisting his considerable charms. He would be good to her.

Then her aunt walked past her in the receiving line and that combined with her cruel words before the ceremony brought all the pain from the breakup back to the surface. Rosaline pasted a smile on her face and greeted her uncle, who did stop to give her a hug.

She then resolved to put aside her own hurts – including the very fresh and painful knowledge that she could have had all this less than a year ago – and enjoy herself. She doesn’t want to put a damper on her cousin’s day. And she knows that dwelling on her past won’t do her any good at all.

xXx

Everything seems to progress so quickly. The ceremony. Riding around town in a limo bus having pictures taken. Arriving at the reception hall. Dinner.

When the deejay is calling the happy newlyweds to the dance floor for their first dance, Rosaline can’t believe so much of the day has already passed. It’s a day that she had been dreading for so long, and she’s pleased she’s gotten through it without having any sort of breakdown.

She even smiles watching them dance, their joy infectious. There is no jealousy for what she could have had, no animosity about her jilted romance. She is simply happy for her cousin.

Their song ends, and another begins. This time the rest of the bridal party is called to the dance floor, and Rosaline and Benvolio are the first to step out.

They approach from different sides of the floor and join their cousins. A few moments later, Livia and Mercutio appear. Tybalt and Paris look at each other, shrug, and join them as well, and there are a few chuckles from the onlookers as the two men briefly bicker over who gets to lead.

“Eventually Livia will take pity on them and swap with Tybalt,” Rosaline says to Benvolio, trying not to notice how completely comfortable she feels with her hand in his and his arm around her. Then she snorts a laugh and adds, “Yeah. ‘Take pity’. It’ll be a real hardship for her to dance with Paris.”

“There they go,” Benvolio says, turning them so Rosaline can see her sister passing Mercutio to Tybalt before smiling not-so-shyly at Paris.

The deejay invites others to join in the dance, and the first couple to step onto the dance floor are her aunt and uncle.

She finds Livia over Benvolio’s shoulder and they both roll their eyes.

“It’s nice to see how your aunt and uncle are still in love,” Benvolio comments, not having seen the exchange between the sisters.

“Look closer,” Rosaline instructs.

He steers them that way, watching the Capulets dance. He now sees that Giuliana’s smile looks pasted on and does not reach her eyes. Sylvestro appears to be gazing down at his wife, but his eyes are not focused on her at all.

“It’s a ruse,” he says.

“Yup,” she confirms. “There is only one person Giuliana Capulet loves, apart from herself: Juliet.”

“I suppose that’s good for Juliet, if a little stifling, but it’s pretty messed up,” he replies.

Rosaline nods. The song changes to a different slow song, but Benvolio doesn’t release her. In fact he holds her a little closer.

Not that Rosaline was trying to escape.

“Once Giuliana got what she wanted – Juliet – she had no use for Sylvestro apart from his bank accounts and reputation. By the time she finally got knocked up they were already established as _the_ power couple in Verona, and she would not jeopardize that by divorcing him,” Rosaline explains.

“Your family is almost as twisted as mine,” Benvolio comments.

“Oh, it gets better. She really wanted to marry my dad, not Syl.”

“What?”

“Mom got there first though, and Giuliana secretly hated her for it. I don’t think my mom knew that.”

He is quiet for a moment, his eyes tracking her face in such a way that makes her wonder if he’s going to bring up painting her again. But then his gaze drops to her lips and lingers there just long enough to cause her to look at  _his_ lips for a second before she gathers her senses.

When she lifts her eyes he is still staring at her.

“What is it?” she asks.

He clears his throat. “Do you look a lot like your mom?”

“From what I remember and have seen in old pictures, yeah,” she answers. “Oh. Why didn’t I ever think of that?” she asks, laughing.

“Well, now you might know why Giuliana always seemed to hate you so much,” he points out.

“Oh, that’s probably a big part of the reason, but she also resents having gotten stuck with us after my parents had the nerve to die,” she responds, then unthinkingly leans over and rests her head on his shoulder. “Giuliana and Sylvestro haven’t slept in the same room since Giuliana found out she was pregnant.”

He thoughtfully looks at her for a moment, then asks, “How do you know all this?”

“They may not have paid attention to me, but I certainly did to them,” she answers, lifting her head. “You would be amazed at how much you learn trying to make yourself invisible.”

“Would I really be amazed, do you think?” he wryly asks, leaning back a bit to look directly at her.

“No, I don’t suppose _you_ would,” she answers with a smile.

“Why doesn’t he leave her?”

“Same reasons. Pride. Habit. Plus he’s a lot weaker than he puts on. I think he’s so used to being under her thumb that he doesn’t even notice it most of the time now.”

He gently guides her head back onto his shoulder. He rather enjoyed the feel of it there. “Your family is fucked. Up.”

“Pot, kettle,” she retorts, laughing.

His soft laughter joins hers and they fall into comfortable silence as they finish their dance.

xXx

Rosaline walks out of the ladies’ room just as Benvolio emerges from the men’s room across the corridor. They both stop and stare at each other a moment before simultaneously starting to laugh.

“You seem to have a talent for encountering unscrupulous men outside of bathrooms,” he says.

“Apparently so,” she agrees. There is a window with a bench beneath it at the end of the hallway, and she nods her head in that direction before walking towards it.

He follows, curious.

A considerable amount of time has passed since the wedding party dance, and the reception is showing no signs of slowing down. “ Need a break from the crowd,” she explains, sitting and stretching her feet out in front of her, pulling them out of the rhinestone-studded flip-flops she had changed into for the reception. She briefly flexes her toes, then ankles.

“At least you could change shoes,” he observes, frowning down at his own uncomfortable dress shoes.

“Take them off,” she suggests like it was obvious. “No one will care, if they even notice.”

“My uncle will,” he replies, still frowning.

“Oh yeah,” she remembers. “You need to get away from him.” Thankfully, Damiano Montague has not bothered her since he gave her a hug that lingered just a fraction longer than it should have in the receiving line.

Benvolio nods, but says nothing. She didn’t tell him about the hug. And now is not the time. Tonight is not the night. This is a happy night.

“If you ever need to get out of his house for a night again…” she starts, leaving the clear offer unspoken. She will admit she enjoyed his company the night he crashed at her place and would not be averse to another visit.

“I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” he responds. He doesn’t explain why, and hopes she doesn’t ask.

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit,” she protests. “I mean… I know you’re, um, interested in me. But you were fine when you stayed over before, and there is nothing you can say that would convince me that you would behave like anything other than the gentleman you have been this whole time.”

He turns towards her. The bench is small, just big enough for two, so she is very close. His hand is just touching hers on the bench between them, and he bravely reaches out with his little finger and lightly strokes her hand. “I… I wanted to kiss you, but you fell asleep,” he admits. “You have no idea how many times I’ve almost kissed you,” he adds, his voice dropping to a low rumble.

“But you haven’t,” she replies, her voice almost a whisper, unconsciously leaning closer to him.

“No. And I won’t. Not until you tell me I can,” he softly returns, but his gaze tellingly moves to her lips the same way it did when they were dancing.

Rosaline surges forward and kisses him before she even realizes what she’s doing. It isn’t a long kiss, and when they separate, they stay close together, staring in awe at one another. Benvolio allows himself a moment to lose himself in her large, dark eyes before returning his lips to hers in earnest, his hand gently cradling her face, his thumb skimming the soft skin of her cheek as his tongue finds hers and languidly slides against it.

She loses herself in his kiss for about five seconds before abruptly pulling away, her hand lingering on his chest. “I’m sorry,” she says, dropping her hand. “I shouldn’t have…”

“Oh,” he replies, swallowing his disappointment. It was a short kiss, but one of the best he’s ever had. Perhaps _the_ best. And it simply confirmed every fantasy he’s had about her.

“I… I guess I was just caught up in the whole… wedding… romance… dancing… stuff,” she haltingly says, grasping for an explanation. In truth, she kissed him because she _wanted_ to kiss him. Then she panicked at how good it was. “It was shitty of me to mislead you like—”

“Hey!” Mercutio calls, interrupting them. “They’re gonna do the bouquet and garter toss!”

“Ugh,” Rosaline groans, her familiar response making Benvolio laugh despite the hurt he feels at her kiss and subsequent rejection.

“Obligations are a bitch,” he groans, standing. “Ugh.” Now it is his turn to groan, his shoes feeling like they had grown tighter while he was sitting.

xXx

Mercutio and Livia catch the garter and bouquet. Rosaline was relieved; she didn’t even try. She stood near the back of the group, and was well aware of the fact that the rest of the ladies allowed her to do so.

Mercutio didn’t want to catch the garter, but it basically landed on him, so he had no choice. Luckily, the deejay didn’t do that cheesy thing where the two people who catch the items have to share a dance.

Having to do “The Chicken Dance” was bad enough.

Rosaline was feeling shitty and conflicted about having kissed Benvolio. She knows it was a rotten thing to do, but he was right  _there_ , and smelled so  _good,_ and was just being so  _sweet_ and she was just… weak.

It was a  _good_ kiss. And then she pushed him away.

And now she can’t get him alone to apologize again. She doesn’t know if he’s actively avoiding her or if she’s just unlucky, but every time she tries, someone intercepts one of them.

She can’t let it go, so when she spots him heading out of the room again, she hurries after him.

“Ben!” she calls. He’s halfway down the corridor. _Where is he going?_

Thankfully, he stops. He turns and waits for her, his expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes again. “Really. I shouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t mean it.”

“Did you not mean it then?” he asks.

“No. Yes,” she answers, furrowing her brows. “I don’t know what the correct answer is,” she huffs. “I didn’t… _not_ mean it,” she admits. “But I’m just not ready. I… I just can’t…”

He looks at her, his expression understanding but sad. He takes a deep breath, blows it out, and says, “I really like you Rosaline. You know that.”

“Yes, and I promise I wasn’t taking advantage of that. I didn’t just kiss you because I knew you liked me. I like you too—” She breaks off, not wanting to say the next word.

“But,” he supplies, saying the word she wouldn’t.

“But,” she confirms, sadly exhaling.

He reaches up and lightly caresses her cheek, then indulgently runs his thumb over her lower lip. Her eyes close. “I hope you can find a way to heal,” he whispers. “But I may not be here by the time you figure out what it is you want.”

Then he is gone.

xXx

Rosaline wakes the next morning, then jumps in surprise because Livia is  _staring_ at her. Her sister spent another night at her apartment, not wanting to drive back to Madison once the reception finally wound down.

“Don’t do that!” she exclaims, shoving at her sister.

“Oh come on, you miss it,” Livia replies.

“No, I most definitely do not miss your creepy-ass self staring at me until I wake up. You were a spooky child,” Rosaline protests, flipping over and pulling the blanket back up while Livia laughs. Their aunt and uncle have a huge house, but they made Rosaline and Livia share a bedroom for years. It was Juliet that convinced her mother to let them each have their own room when they were all teenagers.

Livia curls up behind her sister. “Someone’s crabby this morning,” she sweetly says. “I would have thought you’d be in a good mood today. You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself last night.”

Rosaline glares over her shoulder at her sister. “You should talk. I saw you and Paris disappear for at least twenty minutes.”

“You’d prefer it if we just made out right there in the hall where everyone could see us?” Livia unapologetically replies.

“Ugh,” Rosaline groans and pulls the blanket over her head.

Livia shoves her shoulder. “What is your deal this morning? I didn’t snore and keep you awake or anything, did I?”

Rosaline mumbles something, but her voice is muffled by the blankets.

“What was that?” Livia asks, though she thinks she knows what she heard.

Rosaline flops onto her back and flips the blanket down off of her face in one move. “ I kissed Benvolio,” she blurts.

Livia stares for a second. “I thought you didn’t like him like that,” she carefully responds.

“I don’t… I mean I do, but…” Rosaline exhales. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.”

“I do know, but… I can’t.”

“Why not?” Livia asks, tilting her head.

“Because!” Rosaline exclaims, as if it is a proper answer.

When she doesn’t continue, Livia prompts her. “Because?”

“Because what if he leaves me like Escalus did?” Rosaline whispers. “I… I can’t go through that again.”

Livia sits up and stares down at her sister. She knows Rosaline’s pain better than anyone, understands it better than anyone else, and was right there with her to help her take the shattered pieces of herself and put them back together.

But she is getting tired of watching her sister use Escalus as a crutch to keep herself from  _living._

“What if,” Livia says. “What if, what if, what if. You can ‘what if’ yourself to death.”

Rosaline sits up as well, frowning at her sister. “Oh, this is all well and good for you to sit here and tell me how to live my life,” she snaps. “You didn’t—”

“No, but I watched you go through it!” Livia interrupts, raising her voice. “Do you think I want to see you, my only sister and best friend, go through something like that again?” Rosaline looks down and shakes her head. “Now, I’m only going to say this once because I don’t really want to say it, but I’m the only person who can get away with it.”

Rosaline looks up. “What?” she quietly asks.

“Stop using Escalus as an excuse. All you’ve done since then is work. And complain. And work. And push potential happiness away. And _work_ ,” Livia says. “I don’t want to see you hurt like that again, but I really want to see you happy! And I think you know deep down that Benvolio Montague would turn himself inside out to make you happy. You need to let him.”

“But—”

“But _what?_ ” Livia challenges. “Every relationship has risks. I’m over here falling hard for freaking Paris, and he lives over an hour away! But we’re going to try and make it work, and do you want to know why?”

“Why?” Rosaline asks, swiping away a tear.

“Because we think it is worth the risk. Because the chance at happiness is more important to us than the distance. Or the possibility of disappointment. Because we take the good where we can find it,” she answers. “Could we break up? Sure. But we might not. There’s no way to know,” she says with a shrug. “But don’t pass up a chance at having something great because you’re scared.”

“It just… hurts. It still does,” Rosaline admits. “I keep saying I’m fine, but I’m not.”

“I know,” Livia replies. “We all do.”

“You do?”

“You may be able to fool Aunt Giuliana, but those of us who _really_ know you know better.”

“Shit,” Rosaline whispers.

“We all want you to be happy. I think Ben could make you happy. You should let him try,” Livia says.

“Maybe,” Rosaline responds.

“Ros,” Livia says, reaching out and taking her sister’s hand. “Benvolio is not Escalus. Not by a long shot.”


	7. Chapter 7

Things return to a relative sense of normal after the wedding. Rosaline, Mercutio, and Tybalt all go back to work, Livia returns to her summer job in Madison until she resumes medical school in the fall, Paris returns to Brookfield, and Benvolio decides to start his job search.

The only unusual thing is Romeo and Juliet going on their honeymoon. Damiano gifted them two weeks in Italy, and Benvolio is certain it was an act of calculated extravagance done purely to flaunt the fact that he  _could._

And Rosaline is unable to stop thinking about Benvolio. That’s also new. They text from time to time, but haven’t seen each other since the day after the wedding.

So Rosaline is taken by surprise when, two weeks later, he calls her one night.

“Hey,” she answers, attempting to sound relaxed though her traitorous heart is thumping in her chest.

“Hi,” he replies. “How are you?”

“Good. Staying out of trouble. Kind of bored now that we don’t have the wedding stuff to deal with anymore,” she says.

“Ha, yes,” he responds with a chuckle. He clears his throat.

“What’s up?”

“I… I have a favor to ask you, and you can totally say no.”

“What is it?” she asks, curious.

“Um, well you know I’m looking for a job, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can I put you down as a reference?”

“Of course,” she immediately answers. “Why me though? Did you alienate everyone in Paris or something?”

“Not _everyone_ ,” he replies. “I just thought it might be a good idea to have someone, you know, domestic, in there. Sometimes people still like to call and check references, and they might be more inclined to entertain my résumé if I have at least one person they can call who is in the same time zone.”

“Right. And the fact that my last name happens to be Capulet doesn’t hurt either, right?” she slyly asks.

“It’s a nice bonus, I’ll admit, but mainly I asked you because you are a good person with a good job who will hopefully say good things about me,” he says.

“Good,” she echoes, chuckling. He groans. “I’m going to buy you a thesaurus for your birthday,” she says.

“You don’t even know when my birthday is,” he counters.

“Well, when is it?” she asks.

“May 5. So you missed it.”

“Christmas then,” she says.

He laughs. “We should have lunch again sometime,” he suggests, changing the subject. The unspoken  _I miss you_ hangs in the air between them, and she knows why he doesn’t say it.

“Yeah. We should maybe try next week,” she agrees. _I miss you too._ She knows why she doesn’t say it either.

xXx

_Why is he staring at me like that? We’re just having lunch, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing he wants to devour._

_I look down at the table and it sort of shimmers and dissolves in front of me, my food disappearing. When I look up, Ben is still there, and the restaurant seems to fade away as well._

“ _Rosaline.” His voice is low and husky, and it resonates through me, settling between my legs._

“ _Benvolio,” I reply. My voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from somewhere else._

_He doesn’t say anything else, just extends his hand. Mine automatically finds its way into it, and it is just as warm as inviting as I remember._

_Just as warm as inviting as the rest of him._

_He gently tugs and I am in his arms in an instant, gazing up into his soft gray eyes._

“ _I’m going to kiss you,” he whispers._

“ _O—”_

_His lips cover mine before I can say anything, and I melt. His lips are soft but ardent, molding perfectly against mine while his tongue does sinful things with mine._

_I feel something soft beneath me, and find myself on a large bed with him over me. His hand slides against my side, warm and just slightly rough against my bare skin. I whimper, my body writhing beneath him, trying to get closer, wanting every inch of me touching every inch of him._

Rosaline turns in her bed, the sheets twisting around her, sticking to her slightly damp skin. A soft sigh escapes her lips.

_He begins trailing kisses down my neck, licking and nipping his way along until he reaches my breasts. When he sucks a nipple into his mouth, I moan and my fingers curl into his hair. My hips move against the wait of his body and I can feel his arousal against me. I want to take him in my hand, in my mouth, to learn all the places that make him groan and sigh. I reach down, groping for him, but for some reason, I cannot find him._

_Frustrated, I keep moving my hand over his body, its firm planes and warm contours new and exciting._

“ _I want you, Rosaline,” he lifts his head and says. “I have wanted you from the first moment I saw you.”_

“ _Yes,” I reply. “Please.”_

_I feel him move, and I part my thighs to allow him to settle between them. He leans down and kisses me. A moment later, I feel his length slide into me, filling me._

Rosaline wakes up with a gasp. She blinks a few times, looking around her room. It’s familiar and dark, comforting and… empty.

Then it hits her: she was having a sex dream about Benvolio.

“Ugh,” she groans, trying to untangle herself from the twisted sheets. She can feel the telltale ache between her legs and she’s overheated despite the air conditioning.

“I don’t see him for two weeks, then have lunch once, and now I get a sex dream. Great,” she mumbles, flipping over, trying to ignore the hot dampness between her legs. “Could have at least finished before waking me up.”

She looks at the clock. 2:18. Then she stubbornly closes her eyes, trying to go back to sleep, wondering if the dream will pick up where it left off.

Hoping?

Rosaline sighs and flips over again. Absently, she realizes that it is probably a good thing that she had this dream tonight, after she saw him, instead of last night.

“Damn you, Montague,” she mutters, then lets her hand move where it wants to go, nudging its way into her shorts, where she discovers she is thoroughly wet and swollen with need.

xXx

“Have you given any more thought to what we talked about?” Livia says a few days later. They are having lunch with Juliet. They haven’t had a chance to see her since she returned from her honeymoon, but they finally found a Saturday where they could meet.

Rosaline looks up from the Murano glass pendant Juliet gave her as a souvenir and calmly says, “You’re going to have to be more specific. We talk about a lot of things.”

Livia rolls her eyes. “About Ben,” she explains.

“What about Ben?” Juliet asks, her eyes darting between Livia and Rosaline. “Did something happen? Did you finally admit you like him?”

Rosaline sighs. “No, and yes, but no.”

“ _Yes_ , and yes, but no,” Livia corrects.

“What?” Juliet asks.

“Something _did_ happen and Rosaline _does_ like him, but she is resisting giving into it because she’s being _stubborn_ ,” Livia answers.

“Cautious,” Rosaline weakly protests.

“Stubborn,” Livia insists.

“What happened though?” Juliet asks, nearly jumping out of her skin now.

“They kissed at the reception,” Livia answers before Rosaline can stop her.

“ _What??_ ”

Rosaline takes a drink of her water, then tells Juliet what happened at the reception. “I shouldn’t have done it… it was pretty shitty of me to kiss him and then reject him. I don’t toy with people like that,” she concludes.

Juliet simply nods. “He wouldn’t hurt you,” she says. “Not like Escalus did. And never intentionally.”

“I… I know that. In here,” Rosaline replies, tapping her forehead. “It’s _here_ ,” she taps her chest, “that’s the problem.”

“Tell her what he said,” Livia quietly prompts.

“He said that he hopes I can find a way to heal, but he might not be around by the time I do,” Rosaline paraphrases.

“Whoa,” Juliet says. “Um… I hate to say it, but he does have a right to feel that way.”

“I know,” Rosaline softly agrees. “I…” She pauses while the waitress drops off their food, then resumes. “He should have been more angry with me than he was.”

“That’s how far gone over you he is,” Juliet points out. “Really, Rosaline, he’s the best. Second best to Romeo, I mean. Give him a chance.”

“And how, exactly, am I supposed to do that now?” Rosaline asks. “Just go up to him and say, ‘Hey, okay, I’m ready to be your girlfriend!’ Yeah, that’s not lame at all.”

“She had lunch with him on Wednesday,” Livia interjects.

“You did?” Juliet asks. “How did that go?”

“It was fine. Fun. I… I missed him. Missed seeing him so often because of the wedding. It’s kind of weird now,” she admits, furrowing her brows. “I didn’t tell him that, obviously.”

“Why not?” Juliet asks.

Rosaline just raises her eyebrow.

“Because that would be admitting, to _him_ , that she likes him,” Livia answers. “And Miss Stubborn Pants here won’t do that.”

“Look: You know he likes you. You like him. Just go up to him and, you know, kiss him… oh…” Juliet trails off, realizing the flaw. “Right. You already sort of did that and then you screwed it all up, so if you do it again…”

“Right,” Rosaline replies. “I suppose I could just… _tell_ him. It’s not like he doesn’t know about my stupid issues.”

“They’re not stupid,” Livia insists, and Juliet emphatically nods beside her. “But you’ll never get over it if you don’t allow yourself to move forward. You _do_ want to get over it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Rosaline nods. She takes a deep breath and then repeats, “ _Yes_.”

xXx

The following Tuesday afternoon, Rosaline’s cell starts buzzing on her desk at work. She looks down and sees Benvolio’s name and photo on the screen.

“Hey,” she answers.

“Rosaline, my flower,” he happily replies, and her heart stutters a little bit.

“You’re certainly chipper,” she says, laughing in surprise.

“I’ve got a job,” he says.

“Ben, that’s great!”

“It’s at the Museum of Contemporary Art. I’m going to be a Curatorial Assistant, which is a full-time gig with benefits and everything.”

Rosaline’s brow furrows. “Museum of Contemporary Art? Where is that?”

Benvolio pauses for a moment before he answers, “Chicago.”

She falls silent for just a moment before she rallies and says, “Wow… that’s amazing. You’ll be able to get away from Damiano.” Her voice doesn’t sound as cheerful and supportive as she would have liked, but she’s hoping he doesn’t notice.

“That’s the best part,” he replies, and she _does_ notice he suddenly doesn’t sound as happy as he should.

“But?” she softly prompts.

“ _But_ …” he echoes, “you’re here.” When she doesn’t say anything, he starts backtracking. “I only mean that I’ll… miss your friendship,” he lies.

It’s not a convincing lie.

“Yeah,” she agrees after a heavy moment. “But that’s what the internet is for, right?” she adds, brightly. Too brightly.

“Right,” he agrees, his upbeat tone forced. “Can I ask one favor before I leave?”

“Sure,” she answers, already knowing what he is going to ask.

“Will you let me at least _sketch_ you?”

“Yes,” she replies. “When do you leave?”

“I’m moving Labor Day weekend,” he says. “I start the day after Labor Day.”

“Ben, it’s already August!” she exclaims. “How are you going to find a place to live?”

“I’ll stay in a hotel if I have to, but I’ve already got a few leads on apartments. I need to get out of Damiano’s house,” he explains.

“Come over tonight,” she impulsively says. “We can hang. Order Chinese food. Bring your art stuff.”

“Okay,” he answers.

xXx

Night has already started to fall earlier, so Benvolio was only able sketch until he decreed the light was too poor for him to properly see. So, over their dinner of Chinese food, they made plans for him to come back Saturday during the day.

Rosaline is unreasonably nervous. She wants to see him again, but she’s afraid now she’s lost her opportunity to take that leap of faith.

He’s leaving. She can’t begrudge him taking the job in Chicago. It’s exactly what he wants and it gets him away from his obnoxious and abusive uncle.

But she almost kissed him Thursday night. She sat there while he sketched her, patient but self-conscious under his scrutiny, heart thumping, palms sweating.

He fed her bites of his dinner off of his fork. They talked about his job. She fed him bites of her dinner of of her fork. He told her about a couple of apartments he was looking at in Chicago. He helped her clean up and their hands touched while doing dishes and he was so close and she almost kissed him then.

“Ugh, when did my life become a stupid cheesy rom-com?” she groans, checking her appearance in the bathroom mirror. He had asked her to leave her hair down and to wear the blue maxi dress she wore at the engagement party.

He is bringing lunch.

Rosaline looks at her watch.

He is late.

She fidgets, looking around her small living room, wondering if it is still too dark. Her windows are small and even with her blinds fully open, it seems dim.

Her doorbell sounds, and she jumps, startled. She goes to the door and buzzes him in, then opens the door and waits for him.

“Hey,” she says when his head comes into view. Then she sees he is over-laden with his art supplies and their lunch, so she rushes over to help him. “You could have taken two trips.”

“Two trips are for the weak,” he replies.

“You could have texted me to come down and help you then,” she amends, taking the food from him before he drops it.

“I had it,” he insists. “But thank you.”

They set everything down and he takes a moment to look at her. “You look beautiful,” he says.

“Thank you,” she replies, twisting her fingers together. “This is stupid,” she blurts. His brows knit in confusion, and she says, “No, no… not you, not… this,” she gestures at his art supplies. “Me. I’m stupid.”

“I disagree already, but explain,” he replies.

“I feel stupid and nervous. I’m not used to this kind of attention,” she tries to explain.

“Rosaline, I drew you Thursday night,” he says, passing her a sandwich. “Number 11, no tomato.”

“Perfect,” she says. “And I know, but that was more… spontaneous. I mean it _wasn’t_ spontaneous because I invited you and told you to bring your stuff – which you _totally_ could have left here, by the way…”

“Not a chance. These things are like my security blanket,” he interjects with a laugh.

“But I guess having you give me instructions on what to wear and how to do my hair seems so much more formal and just… weird,” she finishes.

“Welcome to the world of modeling,” he says, nudging her with his shoulder.

“Not a world in which I was ever interested,” she responds. “Because then I wouldn’t be able to eat things like these barbecue flavored chips,” she adds, holding one up.

“Those are gross,” Benvolio remarks, making a face.

“But you still got them for me,” Rosaline says with a grin and pops the chip in her mouth, chewing with a satisfied look on her face.

“Well, yeah, because you _asked_ for them and I wasn’t going to suffer your wrath if I didn’t bring them,” he answers.

Lunch doesn’t take nearly long enough for Rosaline’s taste, and before she knows it she is being positioned. His hands are warm and careful, and she realizes she wants them on more of her.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“Yep,” she answers.

“Comfortable?”

“Physically.”

He snorts a small laugh, his hand hovering near her hair. “May I?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” she answers.

He carefully moves a few of her curls, his fingers brushing her skin in a way that feels deliberate but probably isn’t, then retreats to the spot he has chosen to work. He picks up his sketch pad.

The only sound Rosaline hears for some time is the soft scratching noise of his pencils.

He flips a page, moves to a different spot, and resumes drawing.

“How many drawings are you doing?” she asks.

“As many as I can,” he answers.

“Why?”

He looks up, pencil hovering above the pages. “Because you are a fascinating subject. Because you have, like, this… light within you that I’m trying to figure out how to capture.”

She has no idea how to respond to that, so she simply says, “Oh.”

He bends his head over his page once more, but Rosaline can see him well enough to be able to see the flush of color that has risen to his cheeks.

His bashfulness just endears him to her further, and she sighs – trying not to make it too visible – growing forlorn with the knowledge that there’s no point in giving in to her feelings now.

“Do you need a break?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

“You just sighed. Are you getting bored?”

“No, I’m okay,” she answers. _Of course he would notice. He notices everything._

“Is… is something wrong?” he asks, genuinely concerned.

She breaks her pose and looks at him. “I’m going to miss you,” she says. “It’s weird. Like… two months ago we didn’t even know each other.”

He gives her a sad smile. “I know. I’ll miss you, too. But we have the internet if you find yourself growing too forlorn without seeing my smiling face,” he says. His smile broadens, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

She nods, then looks down a moment. When she looks up again, she asks, “Can I see? Your drawings?”

“Um, okay. Since you broke your pose and all,” he answers.

She walks over and sits beside him. He angles the sketch book towards her, and she sees his face before she looks down at the pages. He looks nervous, like he’s worried she won’t like what she sees.

She looks.

“Ben, these are amazing,” she softly praises. The drawings are simple sketches, but they do seem to capture Rosaline’s spirit as well as her likeness. She’s never seen herself looking so beautiful before. “I…” she trails off, not knowing what to say. “This is how you see me?”

“Why is that so surprising?” he asks.

She doesn’t know how to answer him, so she simply continues to look through the drawings until she whispers, “I don’t know.” When she looks at him again, she gets caught in his gaze and can feel the attraction between them like it is something tangible, like she could reach out, wrap it around them like a blanket, and shut out the rest of the world.

Her gaze drops to his lips for a moment before she catches herself and breaks away from the invisible hold he unknowingly has on her.

“Sh-should we try a different location? For drawing?” she asks, standing to remove herself from danger.

To her dismay, he closes his book. “I think I had better get going,” he says, but he sounds like he’d rather stay. “I’m meeting Mercutio and Tybalt for dinner, and Merc wants to see me earlier because he has more apartment options for me to check out.”

“Of course he has property contacts in Chicago,” Rosaline says with a light chuckle she doesn’t feel. “I’m sure he’ll help you find something perfect for you.”

Benvolio stands, clutching his sketchbook. “Yeah. He’s been really helpful,” he says. “I’ll, um… I’ll make sure to send you one of these when I’ve finished with them.”

“You’re not finished?” she asks, insane hopefulness blooming in her chest.

He half-shrugs. “Just some refining,” he explains.

“Okay. Thanks,” she replies, staring awkwardly after him as he begins gathering up his supplies.


	8. Chapter 8

“Hello?” Rosaline carefully answers, confused as to why her uncle is calling.

“Hello Rosaline,” Sylvestro replies. “Um… hold on one second, please.”

“Okay,” she says, still puzzled.

“All right. Are you there, Rosaline?” he asks a minute later.

“Yes.”

“Livia, are you with us?”

“Yep. What’s up?” Livia asks. Rosaline can tell her sister is equally baffled.

“I wanted to tell you both that… that I’m divorcing your aunt,” he says.

“What?”

“Good.”

Both sisters answer at the same time. To their surprise (especially Rosaline’s, because she was the one who said “good”), their uncle starts laughing.

“Your responses are exactly what I expected,” he says, still chuckling.

“When did you decide to do this?” Rosaline asks, thinking his timing seems interesting, to say the least.

He sighs. “To be honest, it has been in the back of my mind for years. I only… I only got the courage to actually do something about it while planning Juliet’s wedding. Seems funny, doesn’t it? It takes seeing my daughter happily married to truly realize how  _un_ happy I was.”

“That’s not funny at all. In fact, it makes a lot of sense,” Livia says.

“I decided I would ride it out through the wedding, but no more,” he explains.

“That was very noble of you, but Juliet would have understood,” Rosaline replies.

“I know. She told me,” he says.

“How did Aunt Giuliana react when you told her?” Livia asks.

“Umm… you don’t want to know,” he answers. Then he clears his throat. “We’re going to sell the house. I don’t know what she’s going to do, but I’m going to purchase a smaller place for myself. Thinking about a condo, actually.”

“No lawn?” Rosaline asks, feigning horror.

He laughs. “I’ll find something else over which to obsess, trust me.” Then he sighs.

“Are you okay?” Livia quietly asks.

“Yes,” he answers. “Yes. I feel… good. This was long overdue. I have finally decided that my happiness is more important than my image. The idea of retiring and being with her _all the time_ was just… too much. This may sound ridiculous, but I feel free.”

“It’s not ridiculous, and I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision, but we’re happy for you,” Livia declares.

“Yes, good for you,” Rosaline agrees.

“Thank you both for listening. And… I know I haven’t said it, but I _am_ proud of you both. You’re both good girls and I know I can’t erase the past, but know that I would if I could. I’m so sorry for how we treated you,” he says.

“Thank you,” they both say.

“It does mean a lot to hear,” Livia adds.

“I will do better going forward,” Sylvestro assures them.

xXx

Labor Day weekend comes far too quickly, and Mercutio and Tybalt host a going-away party for Benvolio on Friday night.

They share a modest but immaculate two-story older home outside of Madison with a lovely back yard, making it a perfect place to host an outdoor party. Thankfully, the weather has decided to stay warm at least through Labor Day this year, which does not always happen.

Benvolio didn’t want a huge affair, so the party is fairly quiet and attended by only his closest friends. Including Rosaline, who rode with Livia and Paris.

The event is more bitter than sweet for Rosaline, who, despite Juliet and Livia’s protestations, has done nothing in the way of admitting her feelings to Benvolio. It’s getting harder and harder though, and as she goes to get a bottle of water, she overhears something that just might push her over the edge.

“…new girlfriend in New York. She runs some kind of nonprofit, I guess, which is a perfect complement to his political aspirations. Of course.”

It definitely stops her in her tracks. There’s only one person Paris can be talking about, so Rosaline makes a beeline for Livia and Juliet.

“Escalus has a new girlfriend?” she asks, getting straight to the point.

“Where did you hear that?” Livia asks, trying to look innocent.

“ _Your_ boyfriend is talking about it to _your_ husband,” Rosaline answers, looking at each of them in turn. “And they say women are gossips.” She sees Juliet looking anywhere but at her, so she presses the issue. “How long have you known?”

“A week. Maybe two,” she answers. “I honestly figured you knew. I mean… okay, yeah, I _did_ run into Isabella…”

“Juliet!”

“I’m sorry! Isabella mentioned it so casually that I figured it was common knowledge.”

“It’s fine,” Rosaline tersely says. “He’s allowed to move on,” she adds, her voice weaker.

“Yes, he is. And so are you,” Livia says. “Rosaline,” she prompts, poking her sister in the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Rosaline snaps. “I’m sorry,” she immediately apologizes. “You’re right. I can move on. I should move on.”

As if on cue, Benvolio strolls past and gives her a ridiculous, adorable, lopsided grin.

“Damn it,” Rosaline whispers. But she stays put, making no move to pursue him.

Livia sighs heavily. “I’m out,” she says, raising her hands in surrender. “You can’t help someone that doesn’t want to be helped.”

“But—” Juliet protests, but Livia grabs her elbow.

“Come on, Jules,” she says. “I need a drink.” She tugs her cousin’s elbow and they walk away, leaving Rosaline standing alone, her mind reeling.

_Escalus has moved on, why can’t I? Uncle Sylvestro finally decided to make his happiness a priority after a lifetime of being miserable. Do I want to wind up like that? Or do I move on and make my happiness a priority too?_

Needing to clear her head, she turns and walks towards the house.

xXx

Benvolio sees Rosaline walking at a brisk pace into the house. He doesn’t think anything of it, figuring she probably needed to use the bathroom or something, and returns his attention to Mercutio’s familiar rant about why he has nothing but disdain for _House Hunters._

Ten minutes later, he looks around again but cannot find her. Concerned, he heads for the patio doors.

She’s not in the kitchen, and the house is otherwise silent. He walks towards the guest bathroom and finds it empty, the door wide open. He doesn’t think she’d go upstairs, so he decides to head further into the house.

“Rosaline?” he says when he finds her sitting alone in the living room, staring out of the window. “Are you all right?”

She jumps in surprise at the sound of his voice, even though he kept it soft.

“Yes,” she answers. “No,” she amends.

“May I join you?” he asks.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she answers.

It’s not a no, so he walks in and sits beside her on the couch. “You heard about Escalus,” he guesses.

She nods. “And my uncle is divorcing my aunt,” she informs.

Benvolio’s brow furrows as he puzzles together how those two things are related.

“He decided his happiness was more important than his reputation,” Rosaline adds. She isn’t staring out of the window any more, but she’s not looking at him either.

Light dawns. “Oh. I see,” he says, hoping he understands. “I think.”

She looks at him. “I’m… I’m so stupid,” she says.

“I disagree, but would you like to explain?” he replies.

“Not really,” she sighs. He opens his mouth, but she continues despite her words. “I’ve been stupid… stubborn…” She trails off and looks at him. “Scared. Too scared to let myself take a chance.”

Benvolio holds his breath, hoping she means what he thinks she means.

“And now it’s too late.”

He exhales. “Too late?” he asks.

“You’re leaving,” she explains with a half-shrug. “There’s no po—”

He cuts her words off with his lips, pressing them against hers firmly but tenderly. She squeaks in surprise, then melts against him, her hands slowly coming up to his shoulders, then his neck to hang on as he leans into her.

Her mouth opens under his as he deepens the kiss, his arms wrapping around her to pull her closer.

Rosaline sighs into him. Kissing him, kissing him with abandon and truly meaning it this time feels so good. It feels right. And when he groans as his hands bunch the back of her dress, her stomach flutters so intensely she wants to kick herself for wasting so much time. Her hand strays into his hair, and she is rewarded with another groan.

A few moments later, she finds herself beneath him on the couch. She’s not quite sure how she got there, but at the moment, she doesn’t much care.

Then he lifts his head and stares down at her for a second. “I changed my mind. You  _are_ stupid,” he says.

“Hey!” she exclaims, laughing, as she shoves ineffectively at him.

He gives her a brief kiss, then says, “Rosaline. I’m moving to Chicago, not… Australia or something. It’s only two and a half hours away.” He kisses her again. “And I presume you’ve heard of FaceTime?”

“Shut up,” she says, pulling him back down.

They get so lost in each other that they don’t hear the patio door open or the footsteps that follow.

“I know you are _not_ defiling my suede couch,” Mercutio loudly declares.

Rosaline startles, then hides her face, giggling. Benvolio merely turns his head and stares at his friend, waiting.

“People are starting to leave,” Mercutio says.

“And?” Benvolio asks, unconcerned.

Mercutio rolls his eyes. “Some of them  _might_ want to say goodbye to you. Though I can’t imagine why,” he answers. Then he makes an exasperated noise, throws his hands in the air, and leaves.

“He’s right,” Rosaline says. “This party is for you. You should go back out there.”

“Only if you come with me,” he responds, moving away to let her sit up again.

They stand and straighten out their garments. She reaches over and fixes his unruly hair, figuring she should since she was the one who made it unruly in the first place.

“Okay,” she agrees, kissing him. “Then you can take me home.”

xXx

Livia was only too thrilled to let Benvolio take Rosaline home. Not only because she was happy for her sister, but that also gave her more alone time with Paris.

It was a fifteen minute drive back to Rosaline’s apartment, and Benvolio held her hand for the entire drive, occasionally lifting it to his lips.

They didn’t talk much. They didn’t need to. There was nothing to discuss.

They were friends, now they are more.

And there seems to be an unspoken understanding that they’re going to make the most of the short time they have before Benvolio moves.

Once inside, truly alone, they are suddenly shy. Rosaline awkwardly busies herself putting her purse away and hanging up the cardigan she had brought with. Benvolio takes his shoes off and sets them beside the door, then sets his car keys and wallet on an end table.

She tucks a nonexistent lock of hair behind her ear and clears her throat. “Do you… want something to drink?” she asks, slowly walking towards him.

“No,” he answers. When she is right in front of him, he reaches out, sliding his hand from her elbow down to her hand, which he catches and holds, lightly rubbing his thumb on the back of her hand. “Rosaline, we don’t have to… if you’re not ready, I mean. We can just…”

She almost laughs as she takes one more step and places her free hand on his chest, over his heart. She looks up into his eyes for just a moment before giving him a kiss that tells him exactly how ready she is.

“Okay then,” he exhales, leaning his forehead against hers. “Do you have, um…?”

“I’m on birth control,” she answers.

“I don’t have any diseases,” he volunteers before she can ask.

“Good. Me neither,” she replies, then kisses him once more before moving away to walk to her bedroom. Their hands are still joined so he has no choice but to follow.

As if he wouldn’t.

Her room is dark, but he can see that it is tidy and uncluttered, just like she is. Those are about the only details he takes in, because his mind is on other things. He pulls her into his arms, reveling in how perfect she feels against him. Warm, firm yet soft, fragrant, and so desirable. His lips find hers before he even tells them to, and her response is immediate.

She presses herself closer still, even wrapping a leg around his as if she might climb him.

He wraps his arms more tightly around her as if he might let her.

“Bed,” he gasps in the small gap between kisses, attempting to move with her twined around him.

She is cooperative, unwinding her leg and bunching his shirt in both fists as she walks backwards, tugging him with her. “Ben,” she says, pulling slightly further away while she works on unbuttoning his shirt.

“Ros,” he replies, his hands sliding on her back, looking to see if there is a zipper or some sort of closure on the back of her dress. Finding none, he simply moves them lower to cup and lightly squeeze her backside.

She laughs, sliding his shirt from his shoulders. “You’re going to have to let go for a second,” she says. He complies, then lifts his hands to her shoulders to slide the straps of her dress down.

“Your skin is amazing,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press soft kisses to her shoulder and collarbone. “You smell so good… you always do.”

Distracted, her hands fumble with his shorts, no longer able to open a simple button. “Thank you,” she whispers. She is vaguely aware of her dress gradually slipping from her body, and isn’t sure if it’s Benvolio’s doing or merely gravity. Probably both.

She finally gets the button undone and he steps out of his shorts as soon as they fall to his feet. He stands before her in his boxer briefs, watching with undisguised interest as she eases her dress the rest of the way off.

“You _have_ to let me paint you,” he blurts in a hoarse, almost desperate whisper, his eyes scanning her body, clad only in a pair of small blue panties.

Her eyebrows rise, but she doesn’t get a chance to answer because his lips are on hers a moment later and they finally land on the bed. She reaches up and yanks at the bedclothes around them, pulling them down and blindly flinging throw pillows to the floor.

They work their way onto the sheets, kissing and touching and exploring each other, reveling in the newness of one another.

He kisses down her neck, his lips questing, moving towards her breasts, while his hand familiarizes itself with the curves and planes of her body until it settles on her hip. His fingers slip beneath her underwear at the same time his lips slip over her nipple.

She moans, her hips writhing slightly. Her hands are in his hair, but she moves one down to help him remove her panties, lifting her hips to yank them down far enough to shove them the rest of the way off with her feet.

“Now you,” she says, reaching for his boxers. He happily assists her, tossing them aside. When he returns, she can feel the length of him, hot and heavy against her hip.

Before she can reach for him, his talented fingers slide up her inner thigh, not stopping until any thought she may have had flies from her mind.

“Ben,” she groans. “Mmm.” He kisses his way back to her lips.

Benvolio is determined to take his time. He wants to give her the attention she deserves. As much as he wants her, has wanted her, he wants to drive any ghosts of her past away. He slides his fingers through her folds, smugly proud of how hot and wet she is for him.

When he slides his lips down to latch onto her neck once more, she sighs and threads her fingers into his hair again.

“Oh, God, I love you.”

The confession slips from her mouth as easily as her own name. So easily, in fact, that Benvolio isn’t sure she realizes what she’s just said.

Slowly, cautiously, he moves his hand, lifts his head, and looks down at her.

Rosaline opens her eyes and meets his gaze, and in that moment, he knows she is completely aware of what she said, because he can see both clarity and uncertainty in her eyes.

“I love you, too,” he replies. “I think I have since I saw you ram your knee into Truccio’s balls.”

Her lips twitch and she snorts a very unladylike, un-sexy laugh.

All he can do is kiss her again.

Their laughter is soon forgotten when his fingers return to her center and her hand finds his shaft. She wraps her fingers around him, feeling the soft-firm texture, sliding up and down a few times, exploring and teasing him until he can’t take it anymore and settles himself between her knees.

“You are wonderful,” he whispers, gazing down at her. “I… I can’t find the words to—”

She gently places her finger on his lips. “Shut up,” she tenderly says, and he kisses her finger.

“Okay,” he agrees, then kisses her, moaning when he feels her hand on him again, this time moving him into position. Her moan joins his when she slides the tip of his cock along her folds a few times.

She stops teasing him and he drops his hips, thrusting forward into her with a low grunt.

Rosaline hums in pleasure, opening her legs wider for him. He slides back and moves forward again, his eyes blissfully closed.

He opens them a few seconds later, wanting to watch her, see if she is a beautiful as he knows she will be, watch as she unravels beneath him.

His gaze locks onto her for a few long, intense seconds, until she can no longer hold it. Her eyes close and her head leans back with the arching of her back. He rests his weight on one hand and lifts the other, dragging it over her ribcage and up, over her breast, lingering there for a moment. Then he moves it to her face, gently cradling her cheek while he leans down to kiss her.

Her hands don’t seem to know where to land, gliding over his chest, then up to his shoulders, before settling behind his neck and in his hair while he kisses her.

His movements within her are smooth without being rushed; she can feel every inch of him within her. She wraps a leg around him and pulls, encouraging him to move faster, harder.

He grunts against her neck and increases his efforts, his back bending with every thrust. He’s muttering things to her, mostly wordless fragments and unintelligible grunts, but she’s responding in kind, making a strange, erotic duet.

“Ben…”

His name is clear, and he loves the sound of it as a soft sigh from her lips. He leans down and kisses her again, pouring all he has into it.

She tears her lips away a few moments later when she comes with a gasp, her body tightening and arching beneath him. Her fingers dig into his shoulder and scalp. Then she pulls him closer again and places a biting kiss against the join of his neck and shoulder.

That sends him over the edge. He stills deep within her, then basically collapses over her, holding her closely and tightly as he buries his face in the side of her neck.

Rosaline wraps her arms around his shoulders, hugging him. Benvolio inhales, taking in her sweet scent, strong there where her neck and hair are so close.

“I love you,” he exhales. He kisses her neck and cheek before rolling off of her.

She curls to his side with no prompting. “I love you, too,” she answers, resting her head on his shoulder. “And I’m sorry it took me so long to let myself—”

“Shh,” he gently cuts her off, smoothing her hair away from her face. “It doesn’t matter.” He kisses her forehead. “All that matters is that you did eventually come to your senses.”

She feigns offense and playfully slaps his chest. He grabs her hand and kisses her fingertips. “I was serious about wanting to paint you nude,” he says.

“I know. I’ll let you know if and when I’m ready to let you do that,” she answers. He reaches down to pull the blankets up over them, but she stops him.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, then scoots out of bed to go to the bathroom. She bends and grabs his shirt and throws it on so she’s not wandering around her apartment completely naked, and he smiles.

A few minutes later, she returns with a bottle of water and her hair wrapped in a scarf. She takes a drink, hands it to him, removes his shirt, and climbs back into bed.

“Thanks,” he says, setting the bottle on the bedside table.

She cuddles against his side like she was meant to be there, but says nothing.

“What is it?” he asks, sensing she has something on her mind.

“It’s dumb,” she says. “But I feel like I need to explain that I usually keep myself a little more, you know, _groomed_ down there,” Rosaline says, her voice slightly apologetic. “But I wasn’t planning to have sex tonight,” she adds with a laugh.

“No big deal,” he casually answers, his fingertips idly running up and down her arm as she lies curled against him with her head on his chest. “You can do what you want with your pubes. I don’t really care.”

“Oh,” she replies. “That’s… refreshing. I know some guys can be particular about—”

“You mean Escalus was,” he softly interjects.

“Yes,” she admits after a pause. “He was always very concerned about appearances and image. Being that he wants to go into politics and all.”

Benvolio kisses her forehead. “Beloved Rosaline, there is a large difference between dating an artist and dating an aspiring politician. What you do with and to your body is your business. As long as you’re happy, I’m good.”

She lifts up slightly, looking down at him. “So I could… cut my hair off, like Lupita or Danai?”

He smiles. “I think you’d look really good with short hair. And come on, Lupita and Danai are two of the most beautiful women in the world. Try harder,” he challenges.

“I could get my nose pierced?” she asks, her finger absently rubbing the side of one nostril.

“You want to get your nose pierced?” he returns, curious.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” she answers. “I’ve thought about it.”

His hand comes up to her face, tracing her cheek with a finger. “Could be cute.”

“A tattoo?”

He blinks. “Did you not see my tattoo?”

“You have a tattoo?” Her eyes begin roving over him; she even pulls the blankets down to look.

Laughing, he turns over and shows her his shoulder blade.

She leans down and looks, smiling as she sees what it is. She’s not sure what kind of tattoo she would have expected him to have, but if she had to guess, she would never have come up with it.

“A sea turtle?” she asks, lightly running her fingers over it. It’s a beautiful, slightly stylized design that she knows he must have done himself. It somehow suits him

“I like them,” he simply replies, turning back over. “So you didn’t see it on… Oh, right. Fourth of July was at Romeo and Juliet’s apartment. We didn’t have the pool party.”

“Wait, I was cheated out of a pool party?” she asks.

“My uncle has a pool, and he always let Romeo have a party on the Fourth,” Benvolio explains. “But they wanted to host at their new place, so… no pool.”

“Well, that’s just not fair,” Rosaline huffs, flopping back down. After a moment of sulking, she asks, “So I could really decide to just… let my body hair grow to its maximum potential and you’d be cool with it?”

He laughs again. “As long as you’re still you, I’d still love you,” he answers, kissing her lips. “There is nothing more attractive than a woman who is happy and comfortable with herself.” He kisses her again. “At least to me.”

She smiles against his lips, then pulls away when he tries to deepen the kiss. “So I guess in light of this news, asking you to shave your beard would be bad form, huh?”

“What?” he asks surprised.

She laughs now. “I’m kidding!” She runs her fingers through the short growth on his face. “I like it. I was just giving you shit.”

He shakes his head but gives her an affectionate squeeze. “Paris was right: Escalus  _is_ an idiot. And now I’m wondering what his new girlfriend is like,” he says.

“Honestly, I wish him happiness,” Rosaline says. She rolls away a second and switches off the bedside lamp.

“You do?”

“Mmm-hmm. I hope he’ll be very happy with his Stepford Wife,” she explains, then pulls the blankets up to her neck.

They lie quietly together for a few moments, waiting either for sleep to claim them or for one of them to initiate Round Two. After a minute, Benvolio speaks again.

“What are you doing for the rest of the weekend?” he asks, staring up into the darkness.

“Mmm, I was thinking about painting my nails,” she sleepily answers. “Might read a book.”

He leans down and kisses her, gently lifting her chin with his finger.. “Come with me… help me move,” he murmurs against her lips. “I’ll let you decide where to put my dishes.”

“Ooo, you really know how to show a girl a good time,” she replies, giggling as he lightly nips the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Is that a challenge?” he asks, shifting them so he is over her once more. “Because if it is, I can _definitely—_ ”

This time it is Rosaline who cuts off Benvolio’s words with a kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

By November, Rosaline figures she could drive to Benvolio’s apartment in Chicago while blindfolded.

She doesn’t always go to him, of course. He comes back to Verona just as often, always staying at Rosaline’s, never even mentioning to his uncle when he is in town.

When they can’t be together in person, they FaceTime or call, and they text one another constantly.

They are making it work, and are mostly happy.

Long distance is difficult though. Livia can definitely relate, since she and Paris are still dating, and the sisters have spent a lot of time commiserating. But now that Paris has just found a job in Madison, that’s going to change for her.

Especially because Livia will be starting her pediatrics residency at the Children’s Hospital next summer, and her free time will likely be quite limited.

The weekend after Rosaline pasted a smile on her face to be happy for her sister while shutting her jealousy away, Benvolio could tell something was troubling her.

“Is everything all right?” he asks after dinner. They had gone out for deep dish pizza and then returned home to tend their food comas.

“Yes, things are fine,” she answers as they sit on the couch. “Why do you ask?”

His eyes narrowed when she said “fine”. He’s learned that that’s her code word for “I’m shoving my troubles down” and he knows he’ll need to gently coax her out. Thankfully, it’s gotten easier each time he’s had to do it. In fact, this time, all it took was her noticing his skeptical expression.

“Paris got a job in Madison. He’s moving to be with Livia,” she says, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Oh,” he answers, understanding. “Good for them.” He truly is happy for them, but the words come out less than enthusiastic.

“Yeah,” she agrees.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, each afraid to address the elephant in the room.

Rosaline knows she can’t ask him to come back to Wisconsin. He’s doing very well at his job and he loves it.

Benvolio doesn’t feel he can ask her to move to Chicago for him. He knows she also loves her job and doesn’t think it’s fair for her to be the one to uproot and move.

“You know… there _are_ publishers in Chicago,” she quietly says, her voice hesitant, like she’s not sure how he’ll react.

“Quite a lot of them actually,” he responds, hope blooming in his chest.

She sits up and looks at him. “You’ve looked into it?”

“I may have,” he answers. “Google is a thing, you know.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asks.

“I didn’t feel it was my right to ask you to move,” he simply answers. “It’s tricky, I know. I mean… I _want_ you to move here, and I’m sure you probably wanted to know that I want you here, but it wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to leave Verona just for me.”

She slowly nods. “Just like I didn’t think it would be fair of me to ask you to stay. Or move back,” she replies.

“I… I wanted it to be _your_ decision to relocate, and I was willing to wait for you to make it. Or for another option to present itself,” he explains. “Maybe I would wind up hating my job,” he adds with a shrug.

She leans over and kisses him. “But you didn’t. And I’ve come to discover that I’m only truly happy when I’m with you. I mean, technology is nice and all, but my iPhone can’t do this,” she says, leaning over to kiss him again.

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear you say that,” he says with a sigh of relief. “I feel exactly the same way.”

Rosaline smiles and seems to remember their original topic. “ Are any of these Chicago publishers hiring?” she asks.

“What makes you think I checked that?” She just _looks_ at him. “Yes,” he admits, then jumps up to grab his laptop.

“You’ve got them bookmarked?” she exclaims, laughing as she leans over to look.

“Maybe,” he answers, clicking on one of the links.

As they explore her options, excitement gives way to uncertainty.

“Ros?” he asks, looking up at him.

“Hmm?”

“You… you _are_ planning on living here?” he asks, pointing downward to indicate his apartment.

“I… I assumed so, but I…” she sighs. “If you like your own space, that’s fine. I don’t want you to feel like I’m just barging in on you.”

Benvolio sets the laptop on the table and tenderly takes her face in his hands. He kisses her and says, “Rosaline, I love you. I’m always going to want you barging in on me. I want you to live here, with me.”

“It’s a big step though,” she says.

“Do… do you want your own place?” he asks.

“No!” she answers. “No. I just want to make sure that this is something we both actually want.”

“Ros, I’ve been thinking about this since I told you I was moving,” he admits.

“We weren’t even dating then,” she replies.

“I know,” he answers. “I was just hopeful.”

“How you got to be an optimist with your upbringing, I’ll never know,” she says, leaning against him again. “You amaze me.”

He kisses the top of her head. “You have done nothing but amaze me since I first saw you,” he comments. “Hey, did I ever tell you what I said to Romeo when I saw you at the engagement party?”

She sits up. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I think it was something about you looking like a statue of a Greek goddess that has come to life and has… chosen to grace us mere mortals with her presence. Something like that,” he says.

“Damn, you had it bad,” she replies with a laugh. “Oh! That painting makes sense now.” She had been wondering why he chose to take one of the drawings he did that day in her apartment and basically paint her as Hera or Aphrodite.

He smiles and nods. “I suppose I could have told you when you questioned it,” he adds with a shrug.

“No matter,” she responds. “For what it’s worth, when I first met you, I thought you were handsome, but a little weird.” He laughs, and she continues. “Then I learned that you are very sweet,” she leans over and kisses him, “kind,” she kisses him again, “and talented.” She finishes with a longer, deeper kiss that distracts them both for a time.

“We were looking for a job for you,” he eventually says. Then he kisses her again. “You’re very distracting.”

They don’t get back to the job search until the next morning.

xXx  
5 years later

“Auntie Ros! Uncle Ben!” Romeo and Juliet’s daughter, Sophia, comes running across the lawn on little legs, eagerly greeting their guests.

Benvolio crouches down and picks up the four-year-old, swinging her in the air. She squeals with delight, her feet and braids flying before she settles against her uncle, hugging his neck.

“Hi there, kiddo,” Rosaline greets, leaning over to kiss Sophia’s round cheek. “You’ve gotten bigger.”

“Yes,” Benvolio agrees. “How old are you now? Nine? Ten?” he teases.

“I’m four!” she indignantly answers, giving him a look that he can only call a “Capulet Look,” since he’s often on the receiving end of it from Rosaline and has seen Juliet give it to Romeo quite a few times.

“Only four?” he asks. “But you seem so worldly and sophisticated. I was sure you were much older than four.”

Sophia looks at Rosaline, but this time her face is confused.

“Just ignore him,” she counsels. “How is your little brother?” she asks as they walk towards the house.

“Noisy,” Sophia answers. “And messy.”

“Babies are like that,” Rosaline agrees. “Do you like your new house?” she asks, walking through the door Romeo is holding open for them. “Hey, Romeo,” she greets. She doesn’t see Juliet or little William anywhere, but there are infant wailing noises drifting down from the second floor.

“Hello,” he greets, hugging Rosaline and taking Sophia from Benvolio. The baby’s cries gradually stop. “Juliet is changing and feeding William,” he informs. She’ll be down in a bit.”

“I’m going up,” Rosaline says, leaving the two men with the toddler.

“It’s at the—”

“I’ll find them,” she interjects. “It’s a nice big house, but I’m sure I’ll be able to track them down,” she laughs, already heading up the stairs.

She finds the nursery with ease, and lightly knocks on the door before walking in. “Hey,” she says.

“Auntie Rosaline,” Juliet greets with a smile, looking up from the tiny bundle at her breast. She suddenly frowns. “Now I can’t give you the tour,” she says.

“I promise I didn’t look at anything on my way here. Kept my eyes closed the whole time,” Rosaline replies. She looks around the room, which is decorated with a forest theme. There is a big tree on the wall behind his crib with an adorable owl perched on one of the branches, and everything is decorated in soft greens and browns. “This is cute,” she says. “Though Ben might object to your use of decals rather than letting him paint a mural for you.”

“Well, if you and Ben lived here, I _might_ consider listening to his objections,” Juliet replies with a laugh. She looks down at little William, smiling as she watches his round little tan cheek work. “Mom asked me about you again,” she carefully says, not looking up. “You know why.”

Rosaline rolls her eyes. “Ugh, why does she even care? Ben and I are happy as we are. We don’t need to get married to know where our hearts and loyalties are.”

“She just thinks it’s wrong… or weird… that you guys are basically married but you just won’t actually do it,” Juliet says.

“I don’t care what she thinks. She’s never been anything but a shrew and a hag to me,” Rosaline returns.

“I know,” Juliet sighs.

“I suppose she asked about us not having kids, too,” Rosaline guesses.

“Yes, but she’s conflicted about that one,” Juliet confirms with a laugh. She moves William to her other breast. “Since you’re not married and all.”

“God, she is so old,” Rosaline huffs. “Maybe you should just tell her that we can’t. That would shut her ass up.”

“She’d want to know why you can’t and then swear she knows a doctor who can help you,” Juliet says.

“Ugh, you’re right,” Rosaline agrees. “It’s not of her fu— darn business anyway,” she adds, quickly censoring herself. William is too little to understand anyway, but she has tried to be mindful of her language since Sophia was born.

“Mama, mama! Auntie Ros and Uncle Ben brought _presents!_ ” Sophia comes barreling in, excited, a large plastic fire truck in her hands. She holds it up and shows her mother.

“Oh, that’s a nice fire truck,” Juliet says, smiling at her daughter before giving her cousin a _look._

“It doesn’t make noise,” Rosaline informs. “Ben wanted to get one that did, but I vetoed it.”

“You have my eternal gratitude,” Juliet replies. “Sophia, Mama’s almost done feeding your brother. Can you tell Daddy we’ll be down in a few minutes?”

Sophia nods and turns towards the door. Then she stops, does an about-face, sets her truck down, and runs over to hug Rosaline’s legs. “Thank you, Auntie Ros,” she says.

“You’re very welcome,” Rosaline replies. Then she leans down and loudly whispers, “I bet William will let you help him open his gift when we come downstairs.”

Sophia’s eyes light up and she grins before she dashes away again.

“Does she always have that much energy?” Rosaline asks.

“You have no idea,” Juliet answers. “You want to take him while I put myself back together?” she asks.

“Sure,” Rosaline answers. She grabs a cloth and puts it on her shoulder, then lifts little William into her arms. She rests him against her chest and pats his back. While she burps him, she examines her feelings to see if she gets that baby urge that people kept telling her she would get when Sophia was born. “Still nothing,” she says with a chuckle.

“You’re good at that though,” Juliet says, standing. She knows exactly to what Rosaline was referring with her statement. “But I get it.”

“Glad someone does,” Rosaline says. William lets out a burp, and she checks for any spit-up. Not finding any, she kisses his head and says, “Good job, little man,” as they head back downstairs to join Sophia and the men.

xXx

“We’re good, right?” Benvolio asks later that night as they drive to their hotel. Romeo and Juliet had of course offered to let them stay the night at their house, but they politely declined, not wishing to intrude on them with a brand new baby in their brand new house.

Also they wanted some time to themselves and didn’t really relish the thought of potentially being woken up every few hours by a hungry baby boy.

“What do you mean?” Rosaline replies, giving him a confused look. “Should we not be?”

He sighs and comes to a stop at a traffic light. “Well, of course we should,” he answers. “Romeo just said that Damiano was asking those Questions again. Like he even really cares about what I do.”

“Shit, Juliet told me her mom did too,” Rosaline says. “What is it with them?”

“I don’t know,” he replies. “Romeo said his dad was saying things like we were ‘living in sin’ and ‘doing nothing but fornicating’ like he had suddenly found Jesus or something. The man hasn’t set a foot in church since Romeo and Juliet got married, and before that, hadn’t been in one since his own wedding, probably.”

Benvolio pulls into the parking lot and parks. He turns and looks at her.

“We are good, yes,” Rosaline says, finally answering his initial question. “After years of not having any say in our lives, now we do things on our own terms,” she states, reiterating the statement they’ve come to live by since they started living together. “I wouldn’t change a thing about us.”

He leans over and places a lingering kiss on her lips. “It is good to check up with each other from time to time though,” he says, nuzzling her nose with his. “But I’m glad to hear you’re still happy with me.”

“I am,” she reassures him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her once more. “Come on. Let’s go check in so I can properly show you how much.”

She smiles and turns to exit the car. As they walk inside, she takes his hand, secure in the lightness of their love.


End file.
